877 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


V, 


THE  MILLS 


OF  MAN 


THE  MILLS 

OF  MAN 

A  TSTOVEL 


Philip  Payne 


CHICAGO  &>NEW  YORK 
<Rand  •  TWNally  &  Co- 


Copyright^  /QQJ, 
By  Philip  Payne. 


f>S 
3531 


Though  the  mills  of  God  grind  slowly ', 
Yet  they  grind  exceeding  small; 

Though  "with  patience  lie  stands  waitingy 
With  exactness  grinds  he  all. 

F.  Von  Logau  (1614-1655). 


733344 


The  Mills  of  Man 


MRS.  CORLIS 

THE  "  limited  "   from  New  York  for  Chi 
cago    rushed    across    the    Indiana    prairies, 
under  its  flashing  wheels  a  crash  of  steel, 
from  its  stunted  stack  a  plume  of  smoke  and  steam. 
The  last  car,  attached  by  special  order,  was  the 
private  car  of  J.  J.  Jarrett. 

The  summer  sky  was  cloudless  and  the  light  that 
fell  from  it  a  glare.  The  heat,  likewise,  was  in 
tense.  And  through  this  heat  and  light  the  swift 
train  ran  on  rails  that  glittered,  while  the  rolling 
blackness,  belched  from  the  locomotive,  enveloped 
the  cars  behind  like  the  hair  of  a  driving  comet. 

The  shades  of  the  private  car  were  closely  drawn, 
to  shut  from  the  travelers  within  any  hint  of  the 
day  without.  Inside,  indeed,  except  for  the  even 
motion  of  the  balanced  car,  existed  slight  indica 
tion  of  the  flying  clamor.  What  air  entered  had 
been  cooled  by  electric  fans  and  filtered  free  of 
soot :  in  fact,  whatever  American  invention  could 
accomplish  to  make  pleasurable  a  transcontinental 
journey,  had  been  fulfilled  in  the  construction  and 


The   Mills   of  Man 

appointments  of  Mr.  Jarrett's  private  car,  "  Vic 
toria." 

The  "  Victoria  "  carried  but  one  passenger  this 
journey,  Mrs.  Walter  H.  D.  Corlis,  the  owner's 
niece.  And  she  passed  the  hours  as  in  a  state  of 
trance.  She  gave  no  orders,  she  desired  no  serv 
ice,  she  refused  to  eat  and  had  dismissed  her  maids 
from  attendance.  She  wanted  but  to  be  let  alone, 
to  be  left  to  lie  in  the  half  obscurity,  companioned 
only  by  her  thoughts  and  by  the  monotonous,  re 
volving  beat  of  the  wheels  beneath  upon  the  metal 
way. 

She  lay  outstretched  upon  a  bed  in  the  middle 
compartment  of  the  car,  prone  upon  her  back,  with 
hands  clasped  beneath  her  head — her  figure  in  rig 
idity  not  unlike  those  effigies  of  mediaeval  ladies 
atop  of  tombs. 

But  her  released  mind  ran  upon  the  rails  of 
thought  more  swiftly  than  the  moving  train  could 
glide.  Yesterday,  in  New  York,  she  had  been 
whirled  about  in  a  set  of  activities;  to-morrow,  in 
Chicago,  another  set  would  seize  her.  The  inter 
lude  of  passage  was  as  a  punctuation  point  be 
tween  two  sentences  of  her  crowded  life.  She  used 
it  for  review. 

It  was  a  grave  review,  since  in  New  York  she 
had  learned  what  conduces  to  serious  thought — 
the  specialists  had  given  her  not  more  than  a  half- 
year  to  live.  She  had  gone  up  from  Washington 

8 


The   Mills   of  Man 

to  receive  their  verdict.  Being  a  courageous  spirit, 
and,  also,  a  woman  not  overweeningly  in  love  with 
life,  she  had  taken  the  sentence  coolly.  The  knowl 
edge  did  not  daunt  her;  it  merely  changed  the  cur 
rent  of  her  thoughts,  unhinged  her  in  a  measure 
from  the  world  and,  in  the  old  phrase,  rendered 
her  meet  for  repentance. 

She  had  exacted  from  the  physicians  delay  in  in 
forming  her  family  and,  from  the  latter,  when 
informed,  she  meant  to  exact  disregard  of  her  con 
dition.  She  did  not  relish  parade  of  woe,  nor  did 
she  wish  to  put  any  ostensible  affection  to  the  trial : 
were  she  allowed  her  way,  she  would  die  without 
preliminaries  and  minus  flourishes. 

Moreover,  important  events  were  at  hand.  Her 
father  was  seeking  reelection  to  the  United  States 
Senate  from  Illinois,  and  her  husband  was  fasten 
ing  his  control  upon  his  party  in  Chicago  and  look 
ing  out  for  mastery  of  the  state  at  large.  The 
political  convention,  which  would  decide  these  mat 
ters,  met  within  ten  days,  and  the  campaign  to 
follow  would  absorb  the  summer  and  most  of  the 
fall.  In  the  approaching  contest  she  had  her  part 
to  play,  a  part  she  had  conceived  in  her  harassed 
father's  interest,  and  she  had  vowed  the  hazard 
of  sickness  and  sympathy  and  anxiety  on  her  own 
account  should  not  disturb  the  engrossment  of  the 
players  in  the  great  game. 

So  Mrs.  Corlis  had  determined.    Yet,  before  she 


The   Mills   of  Man 

put  the  doom  from  out  the  foreground  of  her 
thoughts,  she  would  employ  the  journey  to  sum 
up  conclusions  upon  some  things. 

A  few  were  proved.  Among  them  that  her 
convictions,  as  directed  by  experience,  had  circled 
to  their  source  again;  for  she  recognized — a  little 
humorously — that  what  survived  in  her  at  last  was 
her  Puritanism,  what  her  husband  was  accustomed 
contemptuously  to  denominate  her  "  limit." 

She  found,  now  that  its  conclusion  was  inevita 
ble,  that  she  could  put  an  estimate  upon  her  life: 
so  much  she  knew  it  meant,  so  much  she  realized 
was  missing.  She  understood,  for  instance,  why 
she  had  married  Mr.  Corlis;  it  was  exactly  that 
knowledge  which  repelled  her  now,  and  yet  sub 
dued  her,  when  he  was  by,  to  his  desires.  She 
understood  why,  while  youth  may  seem  charming 
in  its  ideal  aspirations,  it  must,  of  necessity,  be 
ignorant  and  cannot  be  unselfish.  Through  ignor 
ance  youth  mistakes  its  heroes,  and  by  reason  of 
self-absorption  it  must  fail  of  moral  beauty. 

For  after  all,  she  was  convinced,  the  secret  of 
life  was  moral  and  its  success  a  thing  of  character. 
She  did  not  frame  this  dogma  intolerantly,  since 
she  had  need  of  charity  herself,  and  furthermore, 
she  was  to  her  finger-tips  a  woman  of  the  world. 
Yet,  discarding  though  she  did  the  too  literal 
standards  of  a  provincial  or  conventional  morality, 
she  felt  in  her  soul  that  all  men  and  women  must 


10 


The   Mills   of  Man 

be  judged  by  this  moral  quality  at  last.  Other 
wise  was  not  the  world  a  materiality  and  human 
life  an  outrage  and  a  hideous  farce? 

In  her  youth  before  her  marriage  she  had  re 
volted,  mentally,  against  the  restraints  of  Puritan 
ism  and  its  want  of  beauty.  She  had  yearned  for 
enlargements;  she  had  demanded  color,  passion, 
outward  dignities,  expressed  nobilities.  She  had 
asserted  the  goodness  of  life  and  the  possibilities 
of  the  human  spirit.  Art  was  for  delight,  society 
for  pleasure,  just  as  wine  was  for  the  delectation 
of  the  palate  and  luxury  for  the  delicate  perfecvion 
of  the  body. 

Now,  at  forty  years  of  age,  she  saw  that  the 
great  truths,  formulated  by  the  thinkers  of  the 
Puritans,  were  truths  still,  though  archaically 
stated.  And  she,  who  had  enjoyed  much,  who 
had  achieved  more — she  would  have  given  all,  her 
wealth,  her  satisfied  ambition,  the  flattery  she  re 
ceived,  for  the  plain  assurance  that  she  was  a 
good  woman  in  the  old-fashioned  sense,  and  that 
her  husband  loved  her,  and  that  her  children 
thought  of  her  as  mother. 

The  afternoon  declined  and  presently  she  grew 
aware  that  Chicago  must  be  near.  She  girded  up 
her  will,  dismissing  from  her  mind  what  might 
have  been  and  what  she  would  be  pleased  to  have, 
to  face  what  was  and  what  could  not  be  changed. 
She  was  again  the  Mrs.  Corlis  the  world  knew. 

ii 


II 

MR.    CORLIS. 

THE  train  entered  the  vast  cave  of  sheet-iron, 
which  was  the  station. 

Mrs.  Corlis  appeared  upon  the  platform 
of  her  car  and  obsequious  porters  helped  her  down 
the  steps,  while  the  conductor,  with  a  hand  to  the 
visor  of  his  cap,  stood  bowing. 

She  afforded  a  picture  as  she  advanced  up  the 
long  causeway  between  the  tracks,  followed  by  a 
retinue  of  maids  and  servants  and  a  stout  brace  of 
porters.  She  was  so  obviously  the  modern  divin 
ity,  the  choicest  development  of  the  American  cul 
ture  of  wealth;  she  could  be  assured  and  gracious, 
since  she  required  no  touch  of  hauteur  to  enforce 
her  dignity.  Whoever  saw  her  felt  who  she  was 
and  yielded  precedence  willingly. 

She  wore  a  gray  traveling  gown  and  a  gray  hat, 
whose  shades  corresponded  with  the  silver-gray 
of  her  hair.  She  was  tall  and  rather  strongly  built 
in  the  shoulders  and  hips,  the  waist  a  bit  too  long, 
her  hands  perhaps  too  large.  But  distinction  quali 
fied  her — not  alone  the  factitious  distinction  which 
attends  social  eminence  as  diamonds  do  money, 
but  the  essential  distinction  of  spirit  and  of  mind. 

12 


The   Mills   of  Man 

Mrs.  Corlis  had  achieved  two  different  successes, 
and  there  was  that  in  her  bearing  which  was  in 
dicative  of  each.  In  her  youth,  in  Washington, 
she  had  won  reputation  for  her  wit  and  cleverness, 
her  sense  for  politics  and  her  perception  of  talent. 
Since  her  marriage  (she  was  now  forty  and  had 
been  married  fifteen  years)  she  had  become  recog 
nized  as  preeminently  a  manager:  she  had  man 
aged  society  in  Washington  and  at  Newport,  she 
had  made  a  place  for  herself  in  New  York,  and 
had,  by  degrees,  come  to  be  one  of  those  half- 
dozen  women  in  America  who  lead  society  and 
control  fashion. 

"  I  wonder  where  Walter  can  be,"  she  was 
thinking,  as  she  approached  the  ticket-puncher's 
barrier  which  marked  the  termination  of  the  cause 
way.  Just  then  she  spied  him  hastening  towards 
the  gate,  and  a  smile  curved  her  frank  lips  and 
gladdened  her  dark  eyes. 

Ah,  after  all,  what  a  man  he  looked,  was  her 
thought.  How  well  he  moved;  how  symmetrical 
his  figure;  and,  as  he  came  near,  how  handsome 
his  features!  She  felt  his  fascination;  she  greeted 
it  with  an  undiminished  joy :  it  had  always  been 
thus;  it  would  be  to  the  end.  In  his  presence  she 
did  not  ask  why  he  dominated  her  life;  she  ac 
cepted  the  fact  almost  thankfully.  Her  rebellions, 
her  criticisms  of  him,  all  resulted  in  this — he  had 
but  to  appear. 

13 


The   Mills   of  Man 

Mr.  Corlis  welcomed  his  wife,  whom  he  had 
not  seen  for  months,  as  he  might  have  welcomed 
a  confidential  friend.  His  manner  made  evident 
that  he  trusted  her  infinitely,  was  fond  of  her, 
within  limits.  She  on  the  other  hand  did  not 
measure  her  greeting;  she  smiled  up  into  his  face, 
her  eyes  affectionate,  her  features  glowing.  But 
he  ignored  her  fervor. 

'Victoria,  I  am  glad  you  are  here;  I  am  in 
urgent  need  of  advice."  These  were  his  first 
words. 

"  Oh,  Walter,"  she  begged  with  a  charming 
expression  of  disappointment,  "  for  no  other  rea 
son,  pray?  " 

"  Oh,  don't  be  a  two  months'  bride,"  he  chided 
laughingly.  "  I  have  altogether  too  much  need  of 
your  brain  to  wish  to  cloud  it  with  sentiment." 

She  winced  under  the  phrase,  and,  to  hide  her 
pain,  turned  to  the  servants. 

'  The  carriage,  William,  and  Jones,  see  that 
the  luggage  is  sent  up  at  once." 

''  What  a  town,"  she  remarked  to  her  husband, 
as  the  carriage  advanced  through  the  streets, 
"  clamor  and  smoke  and  no  pavements,  and  yet, 
do  you  know,  after  the  smug  East  I  fancy  its 
heathen  license  for  a  change.  The  Democracy  is 
fierce  and  free  in  Chicago." 

Characteristically,  Mr.  Corlis  replied  with  a 
subject  of  his  own: 

14 


The   Mills   of  Man 

"  I  suppose  you  are  too  tired  to  allow  me  to 
bring  a  man  home  to  dinner." 

She  wanted  him  to  herself,  but  she  did  not  show 
disappointment. 

"  That  depends  somewhat  upon  whom  the  in 
truder  may  be,"  she  replied,  smiling. 

"Oh,  he  will  amuse  you;  he's  Mike  McBride, 
Boss  McBride,"  explained  Mr.  Corlis.  "  He  will 
be  flattered;  McBride's  Irish  enough  to  long  to 
be  a  gentleman.  A  little  attention  from  you  will 
excite  his  profuse  gratitude." 

'  That  is  not  so  bad,"  she  said  after  a  moment's 
consideration.  "A  Boss  will  be  novel;  he  can 
hardly  prove  boresome.  Besides,  it  suits  me,  I 
fancy;  I  may  interest  your  buccaneer  in  a  little 
plot  on  my  own  account." 

Mr.  Corlis  smiled  subtly,  but  he  refrained  from 
questions. 

'  Very  well  then,"  he  acquiesced,  "  you  will  not 
find  McBride  impervious  to  social  influence,  ex 
ercised  by  such  a  mistress  of  it  as  yourself.  And 
if  it's  arranged,  will  you  excuse  me  from  further 
attendance  and  set  me  down  here?  This  is  the 
Washington  and  LaSalle  corner.  You  know,"  he 
responded  to  the  objection  in  her  eyes,  "  how  busy 
I  am — up  to  my  ears — with  the  State  Convention 
but  ten  days  off,  and  the  whole  of  Cook  County  to 
get  and  to  keep  in  line." 

Until  now  she  had  not  seen  her  husband  since 


The   Mills   of  Man 

February,  when  he  had  spent  a  week,  less  a  day, 
in  Washington.  That  winter  and  spring  she  had 
passed  with  her  father,  although  in  her  own  house, 
at  the  capital;  but  Mr.  Corlis  had  been  so  deeply 
engaged  in  business  that  he  could  not  leave  Chi 
cago.  In  fact,  now  that  he  had  entered  Illinois 
politics,  it  was  part  of  his  policy  conspicuously  to 
identify  himself  with  Chicago  life.  He  desired  to 
dissipate  the  latent  suspicion,  that,  if  not  a  legal, 
he  might  be  an  actual  alien  to  the  state  and  to  the 
West.  Necessity  for  conformity  he  felt  to  be  the 
greater,  inasmuch  as  his  wife  preferred  the  East 
and  was  supposed  to  be  inclined  to  eschew  the  so 
ciety  of  the  Western  "  Porkopolis,"  or,  at  least, 
to  refuse  to  be  identified  with  it. 

The  carriage  proceeded  with  Mrs.  Corlis  alone. 
Yet  for  her  it  remained  filled  with  his  presence; 
and  then,  as  the  impression  of  his  personality 
faded,  she  sought  to  retain  it  in  vividness  by  re 
hearsing  its  each  dear  detail:  the  deep  tones  of 
his  voice ;  the  gray  tinting  of  his  face ;  the  proud 
arch  of  the  head  between  the  closely-fitting  ears; 
the  dark  hair,  grown  thin,  and  thereby  increasing 
his  distinction;  the  square,  clear  chin  beneath  the 
close-cropped  mustache;  the  turquoise  colored 
eyes,  with  their  cold  light,  shaded  by  dark  brows 
and  lashes;  the  full  neck  like  a  column;  the  broad 
chest,  where  so  often  her  head  had  lain;  the 
shoulders,  strong  enough  to  block  a  rush,  graceful 

16 


The   Mills   of  Man 

enough  to  fit  a  Hermes — that  conjunction,  in  fine, 
which  she  had  never  seen  so  well  expressed  in  any 
other  man;  that  superb  union  which  fascinated 
her,  of  force  and  elegance,  of  brutality  and  re 
finement,  of  the  luxurious  susceptibility  belonging 
to  an  Aaron  Burr  and  the  cold  intellectuality 
characteristic  of  Jay  Gould. 

The  very  lines  of  his  figure  and  the  modeling 
of  his  features,  did  they  not  set  forth  the  recon 
ciliation  of  opposing  qualities  in  the  man?  He 
was  black  and  white,  passionate  yet  cool,  ardent  but 
tenacious,  genial  yet  selfish,  vain  but  hardly  to 
be  beguiled  by  flattery.  His  profile,  a  little  dis 
tance  off,  showed  aquiline,  chiseled  in  the  regularity 
of  a  Roman  Caesar.  Nearer,  it  revealed  curves, 
so  slight  as  to  seem  elusive,  so  faint  as  to  exclude 
softness,  yet  sufficient  to  denote  love  of  sensual 
things. 

The  carriage  crossed  the  river  to  the  North  Side 
and  gained  the  wide  avenue  of  the  Lake  Shore 
Drive.  It  stopped  before  the  great  house  J.  J. 
Jarrett  had  built  for  his  niece;  but  Mrs.  Corlis, 
looking  out,  hated  its  magnificence. 

Upstairs  in  her  dressing  room,  before  she  rang 
for  her  maid,  she  turned  herself  critically  in  front 
of  the  long  glass.  Ruthlessly  she  put  the  ques 
tion:  Could  she  condemn  a  man  for  his  failure 
to  remain  in  love  with  that  woman  the  glass 
revealed?  With  candor  cruel  to  herself  she 

17 


The   Mills   of  Man 

pressed  the  consideration  home.  At  all  costs  she 
would  be  just,  just  to  the  man.  Was  she  not  proud 
of  possessing  the  robust  mind  and  magnanimous 
temper  which  enabled  her  to  sympathize  with  mas 
culinity  and  to  condone  its  weaknesses? 

She  scanned  from  crown  to  sole  the  image  in 
the  glass.  She  catalogued  every  positive  point — 
the  white  hair  that  lent  a  powdered  eighteenth- 
century  grace;  the  lustrous  eyes  with  their  depths 
of  passion  and  their  humorous  scintillations;  the 
patent  intelligence.  But,  with  contemptuous  jus 
tice,  she  also  found  in  that  worldly,  kindly,  intel 
lectual  woman  no  least  trace  of  the  fascinating  doll 
or  the  seductive  mistress.  She  could  hardly  require 
a  man  to  be  overpowered  by  the  impulse  to  pet 
such  a  woman  or  to  dote  upon  her  as  the  object 
of  his  passions.  She  knew  she  was  the  closest 
friend  her  husband  had;  she  could  not  wonder  he 
did  not  come  to  her  for  dalliance. 

Yet — she  looked  again,  and  the  next  compart 
ment  of  her  mind  dared  to  form  the  query,  whether 
some  man,  more  spiritual,  should  she  say,  or  more 
profound,  might  not  discover  in  her,  as  she  stood 
there,  some  tragic  import,  some  pathetic  splendor, 
transcending  lust  of  eye  and  touch? 

At  that  reflection  she  drew  herself  up  scornfully, 
tall  and  wasted  as  she  was.  A  great  and  almost 
objective  pity  moved  her  for  the  woman  in  the 
glass,  a  pity  touched  with  pride.  For  the  woman 

18 


The   Mills   of  Man 

had  so  much  brain  and  heart  and  power  and 
wealth,  and  yet  she  was  denied  that  common  thing 
which  silly  women  shared  with  queens  of  charm, 
which  any  hussy  on  the  street  might  have  to  sell 
or  give  away — the  seduction  of  the  flesh. 

Then  the  pious  inclination  in  her  blood  reproved 
her  gently  for  her  pity  of  herself  and  for  her 
pride's  assertion.  She  had  reaped  what  she  had 
sown. 


Ill 

THE    BOSS 

LADIES  of  a  dainty  breeding  and  of  the  deli 
cate  refinement  of  mind  which  is,  fortunately 
or  unfortunately,  being  considered  an  attri 
bute  of  a  past  generation,  have  been  known  to 
impute  some  vulgarity  to  Mrs.  Corlis,  or  to  com 
ment,  at  least,  on  her  lack  of  "  tone."  True,  Mrs. 
Corlis  was  both  modern  and  of  the  world;  if  she 
possessed  fastidiousness,  she  seldom  allowed  it  to 
exclude  any  phase  of  the  world,  however  super 
ficially  distasteful.  That  toleration,  or  sympathy, 
which  she  had,  might  offend  some  as  lacking  in 
discrimination;  to  others  it  appeared  to  constitute 
a  meritorious  catholicity  of  mind  and  temper. 

'  The  Black  Boss  "  of  Chicago  did,  to  be  sure, 
resemble  an  opulent  bartender  or  some  retired  po 
lice  captain;  but  his  hostess  immediately  decided 
that  she  liked  the  man.  She  had  ever  possessed 
a  weakness  for  human  bulldogs. 

Mr.  McBride  carried  an  aldermanic  paunch  and 
a  swollen  neck,  creased  by  circles  running  all  the 
way  around;  yet  he  was  nimble  on  his  feet  and 
equally  ready  with  his  flattery.  However,  it  was 
not  his  glibness  with  compliments  that  recom- 

20 


The   Mills  of  Man 

mended  him  to  the  favor  of  his  hostess,  but  the 
Celtic  blue  of  his  clear  eyes  and  the  vague  pathos 
which  informs  so  many  Irish  faces  and  which  may 
indicate  an  artless  ideality  or  merely  an  alcoholic 
thirst. 

Otherwise  "  Mike  "  McBride  was  a  big,  black, 
burly  brute,  with  a  heavy  jowl,  coarse  hair,  a  thick 
mustache,  and  the  short,  curved  beak  of  a  fighting 
brigadier.  The  man  was  a  policeman's  club.  Yet 
a  vast  diplomacy  was  expressed,  somehow,  in  the 
broad  slope  of  the  Irish  shoulders,  and  those  un 
lettered  lips  of  his  had,  beyond  doubt,  kissed  the 
blarney  stone. 

Mrs.  Corlis  evoked  his  latent  gallantry  and 
under  her  management  he  displayed  the  astonish 
ing  adaptability  of  his  race.  She  enforced  awe, 
but  his  excessive  reverence  did  not  crush  him  to 
the  carpet;  it  rather  served  to  inspire  him  to  rise 
to  the  high  pitch  of  the  occasion.  In  other  words, 
the  rough  Boss  demonstrated  that  he  was  not  de 
void  of  a  rudimentary  social  instinct. 

The  situation  amused  Mr.  Corlis  hugely,  as  his 
wife  perceived.  He  and  McBride,  she  saw,  got 
on  famously;  they  "  hit  it  off  "  well  together,  and 
for  a  time  she  was  at  a  loss  to  discover  what  com 
munity  of  spirit  could  exist  between  this  unpolished 
diamond  of  the  Chicago  river  wards  and  the  most 
sophisticated  gentleman  she  had  ever  known.  The 
solution  burst  upon  her  like  a  divination  before 

21 


The   Mills   of  Man 

the  dinner  was  half  through,  and  involuntarily  she 
laughed  to  herself. 

"  What  a  pair,"  she  reflected,  "  what  a  partner 
ship,  to  persuade  a  common  council,  to  corrupt  an 
electorate,  to  plunder  a  public,  to  seduce  a  legisla 
ture,  to  bestride  a  community !  Small  wonder  is  it 
that  the  two  have  built  up  a  marvel  of  a  machine ! 
What  chance  has  an  abject,  defenseless  community 
against  such  an  able  brace  of  pirates?  " 

That  her  vision  was  so  unhesitating,  was  char 
acteristic  of  Mrs.  Corlis;  for  she  was  not  one  of 
those  good  fools  of  women  who  spend  stolen 
money  unctuously,  believing  it  to  be  just  gain. 
That  clear  perception  should  produce  no  severe 
shock  to  her  morality  was  likewise  characteristic, 
although  it  is  to  be  said  that  such  callousness  of 
conscience  (if  it  is  to  be  so  broadly  styled),  was 
due  as  much  to  the  accident  of  her  environment 
and  the  toleration  of  her  mind  as  to  any  essential 
deficiency  of  nature. 

Presently,  borrowing  the  spirit  of  her  husband 
and  Boss  McBride,  she  caught  the  contagion  of 
the  game.  She  had  already  set  the  Boss  at  ease 
by  her  cordiality  and  consideration,  and  the  power 
to  do  so  she  enjoyed  in  all  the  kindliness  of  her 
heart.  She  entered  into  the  humor  of  the  situation, 
too,  sharing  it  with  her  husband  and  delighting 
in  it  like  a  man. 

McBride  proved  a  "  good  fellow."  If  he  sus- 
22 


The   Mills   of  Man 

pected  that  he  was  furnishing  entertainment  in  a 
form  too  subtle  for  himself  to  grasp,  he  did  not 
resent  the  possibility  in  the  least,  but  was  amiable 
enough  to  be  pleased  that  he  could  fulfill  an  actual 
function  in  such  exalted  company.  "  Indeed,"  his 
hostess  genially  concluded,  "  the  creature's  irre 
sistible  and  knows  it  very  well." 

Gradually  the  conversation  took  a  serious  tone, 
enabling  Mrs.  Corlis  to  remark, 

"  I  have  wondered  very  often  how  you  manage, 
Mr.  McBride.  I  understand  an  orator's  influence 
or  a  debater's  in  a  legislative  hall;  I  can  even  im 
agine  how  a  man  of  great  executive  capacity  must 
proceed.  But,  I  confess,  the  methods  by  which 
you  organization  leaders  direct  the  masses  of  a. 
great  city  are  beyond  my  comprehension.  How 
is  it  done,  pray?  You  must  master  all  sorts  and 
styles  of  men  and  magnetize  the  mob  as  well,  I 
take  it.  What  more?  Where's  the  secret?  I 
think  it  marvelous.  As  a  mere  feat  of  leadership 
it  excels,  to  my  mind,  most  others  in  America. — 
Now,  Mr.  McBride "  —the  flattering  innuendo 
was  bewitching —  "  you  must  take  pity  on  my  curi 
osity  and  tell  me  just  how  you  do  it  and  what  is  the 
mysterious  secret  of  your  power." 

The  gross  Boss  shivered  with  pure  ecstasy,  like 
a  debutante  accepting  her  first  florid  compliment 
from  a  man  of  thirty-five.  In  sheer  embarrass 
ment  he  winked  at  Mr.  Corlis,  while  a  pleased 

23 


The   Mills   of  Man 

smile  spread  thickly  from  under  his  stubbed  mus 
tache  up  to  his  Irish  eyes. 

"  Indeed,  I'm  at  a  loss  to  let  you  know,  Mrs. 
Corlis.  I  just  let  the  boys  understand  what  orders 
have  got  to  be  obeyed,  and  they  go  out  and  get 
'em  done.  That's  all." 

"  But  if  they  didn't,  it  would  not  be  all,"  amend 
ed  Mr.  Corlis,  with  a  smile. 

"  Well,  I  should  say  not,"  responded  the  Boss 
in  an  enlarged  tone.  '  What's  the  organization 
fit  for,  I'm  askin',  if  it  don't  get  orders  carried 
out?  Without  orders  from  me  and  obeyin'  'em 
by  the  boys,  the  organization  'd  be  on  the  bum 
in  no  time  at  all.  And  the  boys,  if  orders  ain't 
obeyed  on  the  scratch,  know  there's  goin'  to  be 
the  worst  kind  of  rough  house."  Under  her  ad 
miring  eye  he  summed  up  the  theory  of  his  gen 
eralship,  "  I  don't  stop  to  lead  'em;  I  drive  'em, 
Mrs.  Corlis,  and  that's  about  how  it's  done,  I 
guess." 

"But  what  gives  you  the  power?"  she  per 
sisted,  aware  that  she  was  playing  on  the  master 
chord  of  his  self-love.  "  Why  are  you  boss  instead 
of  some  other  man?  Why  do  they  fear  and  love 
you  so  much  that  they  remain  loyal  to  you  ?  Why, 
in  other  words,  are  you  you?" 

McBride  dilated  under  such  appreciation. 

"Oh,  it  ain't  me;  it's  the  organization,"  he 
24 


The   Mills   of  Man 

protested.  "  Every  feller  that  belongs  to  it  knows 
that  to  get  the  benefits  there  has  got  to  be  a  Boss." 

"  But  why  are  you  Boss?  What  is  the  magic 
you  employ?  "  Womanlike,  she  ascribed  his  dom 
inance  to  personality,  to  individual  power,  ignor 
ing,  or  disdaining,  the  institution  and  the  conditions 
that  support  the  institution. 

"Why  me?"  echoed  McBride  in  some  sur 
prise.  "  Why,  because  I  fill  the  bill,  I  guess.  It 
was  fought  to  a  finish  years  ago,  and  since  I 
cleaned  out  Tim  Murphy  in  the  Tenth  Ward, 
the  boys  have  all  been  unanimous  for  peace  and 
harmony.  My  word  goes  everywhere,  see?  If 
there  wasn't  no  call  for  bosses,  there  wouldn't  be 
none.  And  if  the  organization  was  run  like  a  re. 
form  meetin',  where  each  yap  that  wants  to  can 
make  a  holler,  the  boys  would  have  to  be  after 
seekin'  other  bizness  openin's,  I  guess.  They 
know  that." 

"  Yet  organization,  important  as  it  is,  is  not 
all,"  Mrs.  Corlis  contended.  "  An  engine,  how 
ever  perfect,  requires  steam  to  keep  it  going." 

McBride's  intellect  seized  the  concrete  com 
parison. 

"  I  should  say  it  did,"  he  agreed.  "  And  don't 
you  forget  it,  I  give  'em  steam,  regular,  every 
hour.  How'd  it  go,  if  I  let  up  for  a  day,  I'm 
askin'.  Men  are  born  a  lazy  lot  and  you've  got 

25 


The   Mills   of  Man 

to  prod  'em  up,   right  along.     That's  why  they 
need  a  Boss." 

"  There  is  little  doubt  but  that  Chicago  enjoys 
one,"  observed  Mr.  Corlis,  facetiously. 

"  I  don't  mean  there  should,"  rejoined  the  Boss 
with  grimness.  "  It  wouldn't  do.  Them  fellers 
has  got  to  know  for  certain  in  their  minds  where 
orders  comes  from  or  the  spokes'd  fly  out  all 
'round  quicker  than  a  fire  alarm  goes  oft." 

'  They  know — rest  assured  they  know,"  chuck 
led  Mr.  Corlis,  "  and  you  don't  use  any  feather 
in  hammering  the  notion  into  their  heads  at  that, 
McBride." 

The  Boss  smiled  pleasantly,  and,  on  further 
thought,  deemed  it  necessary  to  offer  some  apol 
ogy  for  the  lady's  sake. 

"  I  hope  I  ain't  as  bad  as  them  reformers  and 
newspaper  fellers  make  me  out,  Mrs.  Corlis. 
There's  a  lot  of  people  who  don't  know  what  it 
is  to  be  in  politics — that's  what  the  matter  is. 
They're  ignorant,  they  are.  Suppose  I  undertook 
to  teach  'em  how  to  run  their  department  stores, 
their  banks  and  newspapers,  they'd  set  up  an  al 
mighty  howl,  I'm  tellin'  you.  They'd  say  I  was  an 
ignorant  cuss  and  a  vulgar  plug-ugly,  and  all  those 
other  choice  pet  names  they  keep  on  ice  especially 
for  me." 

''  But  you  can  afford  to  ignore  abuse,"   Mrs. 
26 


The   Mills   of  Man 

Corlis  said  consolingly.     "  Everybody,  nowadays, 
expects  to  be  assailed." 

''  Well,  I  don't  mind  none  at  all  what  they  say 
about  me  in  connection  with  the  organization," 
declared  McBride.  "  That's  part  of  what's 
comin'  to  you  in  the  bizness,  I  guess.  What  raises 
my  hair  ain't  that  at  all — it's  for  them  college 
fellers  and  literary  yaps  a-sayin'  in  their  lives  of 
me  how  I  was  born  an  illiterate  Irishman  and 
have  stayed  so  up  to  date.  It  ain't  the  lies,  I'm 
tellin'  you,  'tis  the  truth  about  a  feller  that  stings 
like  pepper  in  the  eyes." 

"  So  much  the  more  credit  to  you  for  making 
yourself  what  you  are,  Mr.  McBride,"  asserted 
his  hostess,  quickly  and  with  feeling. 

'  That  don't  help  none,"  he  dissented  dolefully. 
''  It's  true,  that's  the  worst  of  it.  When  I  begun 
life  I  was  only  an  Irishman,  and  now  I've  sent  my 
boys  to  college  and  helped  make  'em  gentlemen, 
and  then  them  reformers  go  and  make  a  shame  of 
me  to  my  sons.  Beggin'  you'll  excuse  me,  Mrs. 
Corlis,  I  hope,  if  there's  to  be  any  of  them  dum 
reformers  up  in  heaven,  I'll  be  put  out  before  I 
get  let  in." 

"  I'm  hanged  if  I  blame  you !  "  exclaimed  Mr. 
Corlis. 

"  Nor  I,"  declared  his  wife  with  equal  em 
phasis. 

And  she  related  how  her  own  father  had  come 
27 


The   Mills   of  Man 

up  from  the  bottom  and  had  managed,  somehow, 
to  educate  himself  between  labors.  She  spoke  of 
the  struggle  of  his  youth,  its  deprivations  and  its 
sacrifices,  and  of  how  meager  were  his  first  suc 
cesses.  And  as  she  recounted  the  story,  so  common 
in  America,  she  directed  now  and  then  a  challeng 
ing  glance  at  Mr.  Corlis,  realizing  that  nothing 
was  to  him  so  distasteful  as  the  publication  of  the 
rural  origin  of  her  family,  although  in  private  he 
was  not  above  taunting  her,  occasionally,  with  her 
plebeian  blood  and  explaining  thereby  some  of  her 
idiosyncrasies. 

But  McBride  refused  the  sympathetic  pallia 
tion. 

"That's  good  to  hear,  Mrs.  Corlis;  but  the 
Senator's  different  from  me.  He  ain't  illiterate 
and  he  ain't  Irish,  no  matter  how  hard  up  he  was 
born.  I'm  that  proud  of  my  Irish,  though — when 
it's  put  as  it  ought,  as  an  honor  and  not  as  a  slur. 
A  boss's  a  boss,  though  I  ain't  sayin'  it's  bad  as  a 
bizness.  But  a  senator's  a  statesman  and  orna 
mental  to  the  country.  And  I'll  say  this  for  Sen 
ator  Dawes,  though  he's  fought  me  bitter  for  fif 
teen  years — he's  a  man  his  state  honors;  he's  the 
'  grand  old  man  '  of  Illinois." 

Mrs.  Corlis  glowed;  the  dearest  pride  she  con 
fessed  was  her  father's  fame. 

"  I  thank  you,  Mr.  McBride,  for  your  gener 
ous  tribute,  and  I  am  confident  that  when  I  let  my 

28 


The   Mills   of  Man 

father  know  how  beautifully  you  have  spoken  of 
him,  he  will  be  greatly  pleased.  Indeed,  if  you 
will  allow  me  to  speak  frankly,  I  am  more  than 
half  persuaded  it  is  my  duty  to  make  you  two 
good  friends.  A  woman  is  a  natural  mediator,  is 
she  not?  " 

Praise  of  his  chivalry  in  speaking  well  of  his 
enemy  had  warmed  the  cockles  of  his  Irish  heart; 
but,  when  she  suggested  mediation,  she  touched 
his  shrewdness.  The  Boss  smiled  a  different  smile 
as  he  looked  again  at  her  and  hung  his  head  a 
little  to  one  side. 

"  That's  appertainin'  to  politics,  I  guess,  and 
bizness  ain't  related  to  good  feelin'.  I've  enjoyed 
the  best  of  feller-feelin'  for  some  friends  of  mine 
I  meant  to  rip  up  the  back  the  next  election  day. 
Same  now  with  the  Senator.  He's  fought  the  or 
ganization  with  every  weapon  for  the  last  ten 
year,  and  he  never  would  consent  to  let  me  set 
down  at  the  national  dinner  table.  Personal 
feelin'  is  all  for  you,  Mrs.  Corlis,  but  I  ain't  foot 
loose.  I'm  tied  up  by  my  duty  to  the  organiza 
tion." 

"  But  has  not  the  time  about  arrived  for  a  new 
deal  all  around?  "  suggested  Mr.  Corlis  softly. 

"  Has  it?  "  replied  the  Boss,  dubiously. 

"  I  trust  so,"  Mrs.  Corlis  stated.  "  At  least 
I'm  hopeful  that  much  misconstruction  on  both 
sides  may  be  removed  and  that  old  enmities  may 

29 


The   Mills  of  Man 

die.  And  I  am  certain,  Mr.  McBride,  your  words 
to-night  of  respect  for  my  father's  services  and 
character  will  go  far  towards  obliterating  in  his 
mind  the  effect  of  years  of  misunderstanding  and 
misrepresentation  fomented  by  your  enemies  and 
kept  alive  by  parties  interested  in  keeping  you  two 
apart.  He  has  learned,  I  know,  to  respect  your 
resolution  and  abilities,  Mr.  McBride,  and  he  esti 
mates  most  highly  the  influence  that  you  wield." 

McBride  cleared  his  throat. 

"  Humph,  I'm  dead  willin',  Mrs.  Corlis,"  he 
announced.  "  I  don't  cherish  no  hard  feelin's 
against  the  Senator,  myself,  and  I'd  extend  him 
the  glad  hand  to-morrow  mornin'  sure,  and  prom 
ise  him  the  backin'  of  the  organization  where  he'd 
most  want  it,  if  he'd  agree  to'  stand  in  with  us  for 
good,  and  see  we  got  our  share  down  at  Spring 
field,  and  steer  us  up  around  to  the  White  House 
whenever  we  wanted  to  pay  a  call.  The  trouble 
up  to  date  has  been,  Mrs.  Corlis,  and  I  don't 
blame  him  none  for  it,  the  Senator  was  in  politics 
for  glory  and  he  never  would  consent  to  hear  we 
wasn't  in  it  for  our  health." 


IV 

MR.    CORLIS  ON   POLITICS 

LUXURIOUS  inclination  made  of  Mr.  Cor- 
lis  a  lazy  animal,  except  when  aroused  by 
the  pleasures  of  society  or  the  greed  of  gain. 
Normally  he  remained  a  drowsy  force ;  at  intervals 
he  became  a  whirlwind  of  energy.     In  such  intense 
periods  his  great  powers  were  used  with  concen 
tration,   in  order  to  dispatch   the  business  finally 
and  with  effect,  and  to  enable  himself  to  live  at 
ease  again. 

He  sauntered  into  his  wife's  room  after  the 
Boss  had  gone.  She  was  idly  turning  over  the 
leaves  of  a  French  novel,  while  she  wraited  for  her 
maid.  She  looked  up  to  welcome  him  with  a 
smile,  but  he  made  no  articulate  response  until  he 
had  elaborately  stretched  himself  out  at  full  length 
upon  the  sofa.  There,  lying  on  his  back,  he 
puffed  milky  rings  of  smoke  upward  at  the  ceil 
ing  and  drawled  an  occasional  observation  at  his 
wife. 

Many  of  their  conferences  were  conducted  in 
this  manner.  Mrs.  Corlis  liked  them  for  the  inti 
macy  they  entailed.  And  while  he  looked  at  noth- 


The  Mills  of  Man 

ing,  or  the  ceiling,  she  looked  at  him,  admiring  at 
her  leisure  the  vigor  of  his  manhood — the  deep 
curve  of  his  chest,  the  well-shaped  limbs,  his 
sinewy  neck,  the  high  arch  of  the  head,  the  gray 
tinting  of  his  features  with  their  marmorean  sur 
faces. 

"  Rather  regal  you  are  to-night,  Victoria,"  he 
remarked,  his  eyes  at  a  point  of  the  ceiling.  "  Dia 
monds  and  other  trappings — all  for  McBride !" 

"  Pearls  before  swine,  you  mean?  Oh,  I  fancy 
not.  What  most  impresses  a  barbarian,  Wal 
ter?" 

"  Exactly,  Victoria — you  produced  the  effect 
intended;  you  succeeded.  The  Boss  regards  you 
as  the  Queen  of  Sheba,  or,  in  his  vernacular,  the 
whole  thing."  He  turned  his  head  to  glance  at 
her.  "  What  is  your  game?  " 

"  Why  do  you  ask,"  she  rejoined,  "  since  you 
know  as  well  as  if  I  had  explained  it  to  you  spe 
cifically?" 

"  Merely  because  I  wondered  if  the  Senator 
had  actually  sent  you  out  to  rig  up  a  treaty  with 
McBride,"  said  Mr.  Corlis,  so  drily  it  might  have 
been  a  sneer.  "  The  '  grand  old  man  '  of  Illi 
nois — humph,  he  should  be  dubbed  the  sly  old 
fox!  Pardon  me,  I  know  you  dislike  to  have  me 
speak  flippantly  of  the  Anointed  of  the  Lord." 
He  chuckled,  turned  back  his  head  and  blew  a 
vast  cloud  ceilingward. 

32 


The   Mills   of  Man 

She  ignored  the  pain  his  words  caused  her,  but 
she  hastened  to  deny  the  imputed  fact. 

"  I  assure  you,  Walter,  the  Pater  has  not  the 
least  idea  of  this.  It  has  not  even  occurred  to 
him  to  so  much  as  mention  the  name  of  Mr.  Me- 
Bride  to  me  or  in  my  presence." 

'  Then  why,  allow  me  to  ask,"  responded 
her  husband  coolly,  "  do  you  talk  as  you  do  to 
McBride,  if  you  cannot  speak  authoritatively? 
Excuse  me,  but  you  only  misrepresent  the  Senator, 
and,  to  use  the  slang,  put  him  in  a  hole  with  Mc 
Bride.  Besides,  your  method  is  not  well  consid 
ered;  for  if  you  want  to  influence  the  Boss,  you 
must  be  prepared  with  substantial  propositions. 
McBride  is  only  sentimental  on  top;  at  bottom 
he's  a  cool  trader." 

Mr.  Corlis'  tone  was  disinterested. 

"  I  confess  it  is  altogether  my  own  scheme," 
admitted  Mrs.  Corlis,  almost  crestfallenly — "  but 
I  have  thought  it  all  out,  Walter,  and  there  is  no 
other  way." 

Mr.  Corlis  bit  hard  on  his  cigar. 

;'  If  the  old  fox  hasn't  lost  his  patriarchal  cun 
ning,  he'll  see  that  as  well  as  you,"  he  muttered, 
perhaps  reluctantly. 

Again  her  eyes  showed,  momentarily,  how  his 
phrase  hurt;  but  she  repressed  her  impulse  to  pro 
test  in  order  to  explain. 

"  Since  Governor  Ransom  and  the  Pater  split 

33 


The   Mills  of  Man 

on  this  wretched  silver  question,  Walter,  the  old 
combination  that  has  worked  well  so  long,  no 
longer  holds.  Consequently  the  Pater  must  find 
a  compensation  for  the  loss  of  Egypt,  and  where 
can  he  hope  to  balance  it  unless  here  in  Chicago?  " 

"  It  needs  no  marvelous  penetration  to  discover 
that,"  said  Mr.  Corlis. 

She  spoke  eagerly, 

'  The  Pater  must  be  reflected,  Walter.  He 
has  had  five  terms  in  the  Senate  and  has  twice 
been  governor.  He  is  an  old  man  now,  and  if  he 
loses,  it  will  break  his  heart.  He  deserves  a  re 
election  at  the  hands  of  the  state  he  has  served  so 
faithfully,  and,  you  know,  the  Senate  chamber  has 
become  like  home  to  him.  If  he  is  not  returned 
he  will  be  crushed;  he'll  die  within  a  year." 

"  No  need  of  melodrama  about  it  in  the  least, 
Victoria,"  advised  Mr.  Corlis  lazily.  "  The  prob 
abilities  all  favor  him.  He  knows  a  trick  or  two; 
he's  up  to  every  device  known  in  the  game;  he's 
slippery  and  surpassingly  smooth.  No  man  can 
say  he  has  ever  beaten  '  Uncle  Simeon  '  yet,  al 
though  many  have  been  certain  they  would  get 
his  brush  before  the  old  fox  ran  to  cover.  He  has 
always  had  the  laugh  on  them." 

The  levity  of  the  characterization  was  too  much 
for  Mrs.  Corlis. 

"Don't,  Walter,  don't,  I  implore!  Have  you 
no  least  reverence  for  age  and  reputation?  " 

34 


The  Mills  of  Man 

Mr.  Corlis  writhed  gently  on  the  sofa  and 
puffed  jets  of  smoke  in  his  delight. 

"  I  know  you  believe  the  Senator  is  a  great 
man.  Pure  family  pride,  Victoria !  True,  I  must 
admit  that  as  a  deft  old  hand  at  politics  he  has 
skinned  all  his  contemporaries — the  scalps  of  his 
rivals  adorn  his  belt.  But,  I  fancy,  he  is  now  a 
trifle  out  of  date;  getting  a  bit  obsolete,  you 
know.  However,  in  his  heyday  your  distin 
guished  father  was  the  cock  of  the  walk,  there's 
no  denying  that." 

'  You  are  a  denying  spirit,  Walter;  your  tongue 
belittles  everything,"  asserted  Mrs.  Corlis,  with 
some  indignation.  '  The  Pater  is  no  mere  poli 
tician;  were  he  to  die  to-morrow,  he  would  be 
ranked  as  one  of  the  statesmen  of  the  nation." 

"  Certainly,  Victoria,  his  fame  would  be  se 
cure,"  agreed  Mr.  Corlis,  in  a  most  correct  tone. 
"  Tom  Reed  defined  a  statesman  as  '  a  politician 
dead  twenty  years.'  Occasionally  even,  a  poli 
tician  may  get  canonized  before  he's  dead.  The 
Senator,  perhaps,  is  such  an  one.  He  has  kept  him 
self  in  office  forty  years  and  never  once  been 
out;  he  has  known  how  to  get  on  the  right  side 
of  every  question  that  has  come  up,  and  every 
parlous  issue  he's  side-stepped.  Then  consider 
what  an  artist  he  has  been  at  helping  rising  men 
to  power  and  at  using  their  gratitude  to  boost  him 
self.  When,  in  turn,  they  reached  the  end  of  their 

35 


The   Mills   of  Man 

rope  and  lost  their  grip,  he  knew  how  promptly 
to  forget  them.     Oh,  the  Senator's  a  bird !  " 

"Walter!  " 

She  was  wounded  to  the  heart,  yet  for  her  life 
she  could  not  help  smiling. 

Her  husband  turned  his  head  far  enough  to 
catch  her  smile.  He  was  emboldened. 

"  Now,  there  is  your  old-time  friend  and  quon 
dam  lover,  Governor  Ransom;  his  case'll  serve 
to  adorn  my  moral  and  point  my  tale.  Who 
helped  Ransom  up,  I  say?  Senator  Dawes,  to  be 
sure.  Who  reelected  Uncle  Simeon  to  the  Senate 
six  years  ago?  Governor  Ransom — whom  would 
you  expect?  Ransom  is  finishing  his  second  term 
as  governor,  and  how  is  he  now?  About  to  join 
the  company  of  defunct  politicians  and  ancient 
lights,  I  take  it,  along  with  Sam  Thurston  and 
Black  Dan  Hawkins  and  E.  S.  Blodgett,  and  all 
the  rest  that  your  doughty  '  Uncle  Simeon  '  has 
gloriously  survived,  you  bet." 

Mr.  Corlis  tossed  himself  emphatically  upon 
the  sofa  and  his  wife  felt,  herself,  as  if  the  last 
word  had  been  said. 

Presently,  however,  she  ventured  in  rather  an 
apologetic  voice, 

"  Politics  must  have  its  dark  side,  I  suppose, 
but  why  insist  upon  seeing  that  side  alone?  Dirty 
work,  as  they  call  it,  is  a  necessity  in  everything; 
it  is  an  element  even  in  the  church,  I'm  told." 

36 


The   Mills   of  Man 

"  Naturally,"  he  responded.  "  The  unique  dis 
tinction  of  politics,  however,  is  that  all  the  work 
is  dirty — dirty  work  without  a  chance  for  heroics. 
High  statesmanship's  a  myth,  like  many  other 
bombastic  things.  The  trouble  is,  you  women 
never  know  the  world,  the  world  as  it  is — not 
even  you,  Victoria."  He  sent  his  wife  an  admir 
ing  glance,  perhaps  in  amends  for  his  iconoclasm. 

She  was  appreciative,  even  as  nowadays  she 
was  thankful  for  an  occasional  caress  from  the 
man  she  loved.  She  smiled  back  into  his  eyes. 

"  Maybe,  Walter;  but  it  is  well  for  you  men 
some  of  us  women  can  retain  our  illusions  of  life." 

"  Ah,  that's  another  proposition."  Mr.  Corlis 
dismissed  the  discussion  with  a  chuckle. 

Suddenly  he  swung  his  feet  to  the  floor  and 
sat  up,  his  jaw  seeming  very  square  and  his  fore 
head  unusually  high.  He  looked  intently  towards 
his  wife. 

"  I'll  tell  you  who  is  needed  now,  Victoria,  who 
is  the  man  of  the  time.  It  is  the  manager.  Every 
dog  his  day !  The  day  for  the  orator  and  '  pee- 
pul '  " — he  used  the  exact  pronunciation  of  the  Sen 
ator — "  is  done.  The  rhetorical  Pharisee  no 
longer  has  the  old-fashioned  pious  constituency  to 
which  to  make  his  appeal;  it  does  not  exist.  Chi 
cago  is  a  long  ways  off  from  Yankeedom,  and  the 
agriculturists  themselves,  nowadays,  are  '  on  the 
make.'  '  He  smiled  a  trifle  grimly  as  well  as  with 

37 


The   Mills  of  Man 

his  wonted  superciliousness.  "  I'll  tell  you  what, 
Victoria,  if  you  are  bent  on  reelecting  your  father, 
you  had  better  settle  with  me.  I  am  the  man." 

He  cast  her  a  look  of  power,  then  got  slowly 
to  his  feet,  stretching  out  his  muscular  arms  in 
graceful  abandon.  Mrs.  Corlis  thought  of  the 
yawn  of  a  beautiful  tiger. 

'Then  you  will  aid  me,  Walter?  You  must. 
It  is  in  the  family,  you  know,  and  Uncle  Johnny 
is  interested." 

He  glared  at  her  suddenly.  Something  like  a 
snarl  came  into  his  voice. 

"I  must,  must  I?  I  am  the  family's  humble 
servant,  I  suppose;  the  serviceable  catspaw  to 
drag  the  chestnuts  out  of  the  fire,  whenever  your 
distinguished  father  and  your  opulent  uncle  com 
mand." 

She  soothed  his  injured  susceptibility. 
'  You  mistake,  Walter  dear.  We  greatly  need 
your  help,  that  is  all.  All  of  us  recognize  your 
power.  Uncle  Johnny  often  talks  to  me  of  your 
exceptional  talent  for  handling  men,  especially  of 
the  McBride  type;  he  credits  you  with  a  positive 
genius  for  that  sort  of  thing." 

Mr.  Corlis  allowed  himself  to  be  easily  molli 
fied,  and,  perceiving  how  much  he  relished  praise 
of  this  sort,  she  continued  to  please  him.  He 
never  allowed  his  vanity  to  intrude  upon  practical 
business,  and  few  who  came  in  contact  with  the 

38 


The  Mills  of  Man 

cool,  adroit  man  of  affairs  had  suspected  how 
much  he  indulged  his  vanity  at  home.  No  small 
part  of  his  intimate  association  with  his  wife  was 
consumed  in  rehearsals  of  his  achievements  and  his 
projects.  She  listened  and  admired  always;  in 
deed,  her  constant  appreciation  constituted  her  sin 
gle  hold  upon  him. 

Now,  in  an  enthusiasm  of  self-love,  skillfully 
directed  to  the  attainment  of  a  concrete  end,  he 
crossed  the  room  to  his  wife  and  stood  over  her. 
Her  dark  eyes,  looking  up  into  his  face,  expressed 
her  pride  in  him. 

'  Victoria,"  he  declared,  "  if  I  can  influence 
McBride,  you  can  twist  Mr.  Jarrett  around  your 
finger  twice.  Do  lit  des,  as  was  Bismarck's  motto. 
I  will  engage  to  have  the  Senator  endorsed  in  the 
Convention,  if  you  will  interest  your  Uncle  Johnny 
in  my  new  scheme.  Is  it  a  go?  " 

"  What  a  veritable  Jew  you  are !  "  she  pro 
tested,  laughing,  but  with  avowed  acquiescence  in 
whatever  he  might  desire  in  her  eyes.  He  was  so 
compelling  when  he  was  in  earnest,  and  it  was 
that  compulsion  that  she  loved.  Moreover,  she 
welcomed  anticipatively  the  association  this  new 
partnership  would  bring  her,  knowing  well  that  to 
share  his  mind  and  ambitions  constituted  her  main 
and  single  chance  with  him. 

"  Let  me  tell  you,"  he  commenced.  He  touched 
her  knees  and  gesticulated  about  her  head  as  he 

39 


The  Mills  of  Man 

talked.  He  sketched  the  project  for  whose  sup 
port  he  desired  the  credit  and  capital  of  J.  J.  Jar- 
rett.  His  strokes  were  swift  and  vigorously  pre 
cise.  His  grasp,  his  cold  enthusiasm,  fixed  his 
wife's  imagination.  The  glimpses  afforded  into 
the  complicated  machinery  of  a  vigorous  mind 
affected  her  more  powerfully  than  even  the  mag 
nitude  of  the  plan  itself,  masterly  as  was  its  pre 
sentation  and  daring  as  appeared  its  scope. 

The  cold  electricity  propelled  from  the  great 
schemer's  brain,  entering  her  nerves,  was  trans 
formed  into  emotion.  And  to  her  ardent  sym 
pathy  Mr.  Corlis  opened  the  bottom  secrets  of  his 
mind,  so  that  she  recognized,  with  a  gasp  of  ter 
ror  as  much  as  of  astonishment,  the  vast  ambitions 
crouching  there  like  tense  springs  ready  to  uncoil. 
The  projected  combination  he  had  outlined  he 
meant  should  serve  him  for  a  pedestal;  on  it  a 
future  would  be  based,  a  future  such  as  few  would 
dare  dream.  The  mastery  of  finance,  the  control 
of  the  commerce  of  America,  perhaps  politically 
the  Presidency  of  the  United  States  itself,  were 
the  finalities  involved. 

Against  the  magnitude  of  this  adventuring  am 
bition,  this  Napoleonic  thought,  the  man  loomed 
large  to  Mrs.  Corlis — so  large  that  quibbles  con 
cerning  his  rectitude  suddenly  appeared  evidence 
of  littleness  in  herself.  His  sheer  dimensions  re 
duced  her  sentimental  questionings  and  her  wom- 

40 


The   Mills   of  Man 

an's  scruples  to  wretched  ignobilities,  for  which 
she  felt  ashamed. 

She  had  time  to  feel  so  much,  before  she  was 
swept  out  upon  seas  illimitable  under  majestic 
skies.  She  lost  consciousness  of  self,  forgot  mor 
ality,  justice;  his  glory  and  his  might  absorbed, 
consumed  her.  She  sprang  to  her  feet. 

'Walter,  oh,  Walter!"  she  cried,  and  flung 
herself  upon  him,  kissing  his  hands  and  face  in 
ecstasy. 

With  arms  locked  about  his  neck  and  leaning 
off,  she  perused  the  meaning  of  his  countenance. 

"  I  am  your  partner  and  your  ally,  something 
more  than  your  mere  wife.  It  is  proved,  since  I 
demand  no  narrow  moralities  of  you.  What  I 
demand  is  only  that  you  be  grander,  prouder, 
more  splendid  than  other  men.  And  what  is 
sweetest  to  me  is  that  I  can  aid,  not  in  wish  and 
thought  and  prayer,  but  in  actuality,  in  truth.  Oh, 
I  would  slave  and  charm  and  almost  cheat  for 
you !  I  will  make  Uncle  Johnny  do  what  you 
wish.  He  shall,  he  must,  or  I  am  no  niece  of 
his!" 


THE  BOSS  AT  HOME 

THE  "  Black  Boss  "  sat  at  home  in  his  own 
house,  in  the  basement,  in  the  dining-room, 
in  a  big,  cane-bottomed  chair,  drawn  close 
sideways  to  the  table.  He  sat  comfortably 
in  his  shirt-sleeves  and  thus  exposed  the  power 
of  his  neck  and  shoulders  and  the  depth  of  his 
paunch.  A  big,  black  cigar  was  set  well  in  his 
mouth,  while  upon  the  table,  scarcely  cleared  of 
the  supper  dishes,  stood,  directly  at  his  elbow,  a 
huge  stein  of  German  beer.  Through  the  half- 
open  kitchen  door  sounded  the  clatter  of  china, 
for  his  wife  was  "  doing  up  the  dishes  "  in  the  ab 
sence  of  the  "  hired  girl  "  on  a  Sunday  night. 

The  Boss,  as  he  sat  and  ruminated,  looked  like 
a  big,  sad  dog  who  needed  a  patting  on  the  head. 
His  amorphous  black  poll,  his  chaotic  counte 
nance,  in  which  Celtic  pathos  and  Celtic  idealism 
indescribably  mingled  with  so  much  dross,  with 
such  coarseness  and  such  vulgar  passion,  indicated 
the  powerful  and  contradictory  personality  of  the 
man. 

His  immediate  mood,  however,  was  most  equa 
ble,  nay,  even  smugly  self-congratulatory.  He 

42 


The   Mills   of  Man 

was  swaddled  in  Teutonic  comfort,  as  it  were. 
Perhaps  the  phlegmatic  nature  of  his  dissipation 
soothed  his  Celtic  nerves,  as  the  imported  Munich 
beer  dulled  his  elastic  mind.  His  second  marriage 
with  a  girl  of  German  blood  had  introduced  this 
salutary  slowness  into  the  mercurial  currents  of 
his  blood.  Thus,  every  Sunday  night  he  sat  at 
home,  temporarily  transformed  into  a  great,  squat, 
amiable  burgher,  sucking  smoke  and  soaking  beer. 

No  doubt  the  transformation  contained  a  bit  of 
deliberate  politics — come  to  sift  them,  most  things 
did  with  McBride.  Since  he  had  attained  undis 
puted  supremacy  in  the  wards,  it  was  expedient  to 
become  somewhat  more  of  a  mystery  in  the  com 
mon  mind;  it  no  longer  behooved  him,  as  ac 
knowledged  Boss,  to  joke  and  drink  and  swear 
like  any  ordinary  pot-house  politician,  in  the  sa 
loons,  or  even  in  the  side  room  off  McMahon's 
Place  in  Clark  street,  although  from  thence  went 
forth  the  decrees  that  ruled  Chicago. 

This  particular  Sunday  night  there  was  so  little 
to  bother  him  that  he  was  inclined,  as  an  indul 
gence  along  with  the  tobacco  and  the  beer,  to  let 
his  sentimentality  run  loose.  The  Corlis  dinner, 
as  Mr.  Corlis  had  divined,  had  immensely  flat 
tered  him  and  increased  his  self-respect.  For,  in 
spite  of  the  coarse  fibre  of  the  man,  he  possessed 
the  Irish  itch  after  gentility. 

So,  as  he  sat,  gorged  with  supper  and  irrigated 

43 


The  Mills  of  Man 

by  beer,  he  chewed  the  sentimental  cud  of  recol 
lection.  He  gratefully  remembered  how,  after 
dinner,  while  Mr.  Corlis  was  out  of  the  room,  he 
had  told  his  gracious  hostess  of  his  children  and 
his  wife.  Could  he  not  feel  the  tender  sympathy 
of  her  dark  eyes  upon  him  still? 

First  of  all  he  had  told  of  his  nearly  grown  sons, 
the  children  of  his  first  wife,  and  to  what  insults 
and  isolation  they  were  subjected  by  their  college 
mates,  because  they  had  for  father  a  notorious 
Irish  Boss  and  former  "  dive-keeper."  After  that 
he  had  let  her  learn  something  of  his  o\vn  poor  at 
tempts  to  retrieve  his  early  disadvantages  and  to 
atone  for  the  ignorance  and  brutality  of  his  past; 
how  he  had  engaged  tutors  to  come  to  him  for  two 
hours  in  each  day  throughout  four  years  of  his 
most  strenuous  activity;  how  he  had  striven  to  ac 
quaint  himself  with  a  little  of  English  literature 
and  of  human  history,  and  even  taken  lessons  in 
art.  Art  he  thought  a  talismanic  word,  which  he 
used  only  on  "  swells  "  who  had  "  cultured  man 
ners." 

Now  the  sentimental  tears  filled  his  big,  blue 
eyes,  as  he  recalled  how  attentively  she  had  list 
ened  to  all  he  had  had  to  say  and  how  kind  were 
the  replies  she  had  made. 

He  had  concluded, 

"  But  there's  things  can't  be  fixed  up,  Mrs.  Cor 
lis.  I  never  can  get  the  mark  off  of  my  bringin* 

44 


The   Mills   of  Man 

up  in  a  saloon  and  my  tendin'  bar.  They  won't 
let  no  one  forget.  Even  if  I  could  rub  the  slate 
clean  myself,  they  won't,  them  reformers.  But 
for  my  boys  it's  different;  I  sent  'em  to  a  swell 
school  and  I'm  puttin'  'em  through  Harvard  now. 
They'll  come  out  gentlemen,  my  boys  will — I  ain't 
sparin'  no  expense.  They'll  be  as  good  as  the  rest, 
and  won't  have  nothin'  to  be  ashamed  of,  when 
they  get  through,  except  me." 

He  had  told  Mrs.  Corlis  about  his  girl-wife, 
too,  and  the  story  seemed  to  take  the  lady  even 
more  than  the  story  of  his  boys. 

"  Why  can't  they  be  decent  and  let  up  about 
who  I  married,  anyhow?  "  he  had  asked  with  sup 
pressed  fierceness.  "  I'll  commit  murder  on  some 
of  'em  yet.  She  never  done  nothin';  she  is  a 
small,  weak  creature,  just  a  slip  of  a  lass.  I've 
got  over  mindin'  what  they  sling  at  me,  but  it's 
worse'n  dirty  for  'em  to  insinuate  about  her  in  the 
daily  columns  of  the  newspapers.  It  ain't  manly ! 
It  ain't  Christian!  If  it  wasn't  for  the  organiza 
tion,  if  I  was  foot  loose,  I'd  go  after  some  of  'em, 
I  would. 

'  Why,  Mrs.  Corlis,  little  Gretchen  ain't  much 
more  than  a  child.  She  never  could  protect  her 
self,  and  until  she  found  me,  she  didn't  own  a 
single  friend  in  all  the  ugly  world.  It's  true  I 
took  her  off  the  street;  but  it  weren't  her  fault 
any  more  than  it  was  mine  that  I  was  born  up  over 

45 


The   Mills   of  Man 

a  saloon  instead  of  on  Prairie  Avenue.  What  do 
people  who  have  enough  to  be  good  on  and  more, 
too,  expect  of  a  poor  weak  girl,  who's  naught  but 
a  child  and  pretty,  and  hungry  half  the  time  and 
badgered  to  death  by  every  man  that  sets  his  eyes 
on  her!  But  I  give  her  a  chance,  Mrs.  Corlis.  I 
made  her  my  wife,  and  she  knows  I'm  between 
her  and  the  world  and  that  nothin'  nor  nobody 
can  hurt  her  any  more  at  all.  She's  got  the  chance 
and  that  was  all  she  needed,  I'm  tellin'  you.  She's 
good  and  happy,  and  she  goes  to  Mass  every  Sun 
day  early,  and  there  ain't  no  better  wife  nor 
mother  in  the  city  than  my  Gretchen." 

It  delighted  the  Boss,  as  he  sat  at  home  in  his 
broad  chair,  to  think  how  nobly  he  had  spoken 
and  how  Mrs.  Corlis  in  return  had  beamed  upon 
him. 

Had  she  not  said, 

"  You  are  like  a  knight  of  old,  Mr.  McBride; 
you  rescue  women  and  you  think  well  of  us.  That, 
I  think,  God  will  let  atone  for  a  multitude  of 
deeds.  I  wonder  if  I  may  not  help  a  bit?  Some 
times  I  question  what  my  social  power  is  worth — 
social  power  seems  a  thing  so  idle.  But  you  will 
let  me  call  upon  Mrs.  McBride,  and  I  should  like 
to  invite  her  to  my  house.  As  this  world  is  made 
— it's  cowardly — perhaps  I  can  help  you  more  in 
that  way  than  in  any  other.  And  your  wife  shall 
like  me;  I'll  make  her  like  me." 

46 


The  Mills  of  Man 

(  Mrs.  Corlis  had  displayed  the  enthusiasm  of  a 
generous  child  seized  with  a  benevolent  idea. 

He  remembered  his  own  reply: 

"  But  I'm  sure  it  would  scare  little  Gretchen 
'most  to  death,  Mrs.  Corlis.  She's  a  hausfrau, 
that's  what  she  calls  herself.  She  ain't  built  a  bit 
for  society,  Mrs.  Corlis,  and  seein'  what  she's 
been  dragged  through,  she's  satisfied  enough  to  be 
locked  up  safe  at  home." 

Of  such  recollections  were  the  Boss's  rumina 
tions  woven,  until  a  familiar  sound  caused  him  to 
look  up.  His  wife  stood  in  the  kitchen  doorway, 
her  arms,  bare  to  the  elbow,  set  daintily  akimbo 
upon  her  hips. 

"  My,  Mike,  you  do  look  comfortable;  I'm  so 
glad.  I  guess  I'd  better  fill  up  your  stein  again 
before  I  come  in." 

She  was  a  flaxen  mouse  of  a  woman,  plump  and 
sleek  with  happiness  and  good  health.  The  oval 
contour  of  her  Teutonic  face  was  Madonnaesque; 
her  skin  was  soft  as  a  babe's,  and  in  her  hazel 
eyes  dwelt  security  and  peace,  contented  submis 
sion  to  a  will  she  loved.  What  blundering  fate 
had  sent  this  simple  creature,  designed  so  obvi 
ously  for  wife  and  mother,  adrift  upon  the  pave 
ments  of  a  brutal  city,  the  victim  of  carnal  youth 
and  obscene  age ! 

She  stole  about  the  room  so  softly,  her  two  long 
braids  reaching  below  her  waist;  her  face  was 

47 


The   Mills   of  Man 

naturally  demure  and  her  eyes  returned  always  to 
the  burly  figure  in  the  cane-bottomed  chair.  Dog- 
like  fidelity  warmed  each  fond  glance,  fidelity  of 
the  sort  that  never  questions  and  likewise  never 
fails. 

"  Gretchen,"  the  Boss  grunted,  between  a 
draught  of  beer  and  a  puff  of  tobacco,  "  how'd 
you  like  to  know  Mrs.  Corlis?  " 

"  My !  "  exclaimed  Gretchen,  sudden  trepida 
tion  bringing  to  a  stop  her  noiseless  travels  about 
the  room. 

'  Well,"  announced  McBride  phlegmatically, 
"  anyhow  she's  comin'  to  make  a  call  on  you." 

"  On  me?  "  quavered  Gretchen  in  alarm.  "  Oh, 
Mike,  don't  let  her  do  it." 

"  Can't  be  helped,  I  guess.  You're  the  wife  of 
a  somebody,  you  see;  you  can't  help  that.  There's 
social  requirements  to  the  position,  I'm  tellin'  you, 
that  have  got  to  be  lived  up  to,  somehow."  He 
rumbled  grandly,  but  there  was  a  twinkle  in  his 
eye  he  would  not  let  Gretchen  see. 

"  But  I — won't  know  what  to  do,  Mike,"  she 
begged  plaintively,  standing  before  him,  even  her 
braids  assuming  a  hopeless  hang.  "  And  she's 
such  a  high-toned  lady  for  the  like  of  me,  Mrs. 
Corlis  is.  Please,  please,  do  tell  her  not  to  come. 
Say  I'm  afraid.  Be  a  good  Mike." 

"  Oh,  she's  set  her  heart  on  it,"  McBride  loftily 
explained.  "  She's  got  her  plan,  and  all  that's 

48 


The   Mills   of  Man 

left  for  us  common  folks  is  to  fall  in  with  it.  She 
is  set  on  invitin'  you  along  with  me  to  her  palatial 
residence  upon  the  Lake  Shore  Drive,  and  her 
mind's  made  up  to  extend  my  wife  the  glad  hand 
socially." 

"  But  I  don't  have  to  take  it,  do  I?"  wailed 
Gretchen  in  despair.  "  I  won't  have  her  here, 
snoopin'  'round,  I  won't.  You  can't  bring  no 
nasty  politics  inside  here,  Mike,  to  disturb  our 
home."  She  flung  her  sobbing  self  on  the  Boss's 
ample  breast,  crying,  "  I  won't  have — no  struttin' 
proud  swell — airing  her  goodness — over  me,  I 
won't,  I-  won't !  I  know  my  place — I  do — and  I 
wish  people — higher  up — 'd  keep  to  theirs.  Don't 
make  me,  Mike,  please  don't!  I  won't  love  you 
no  more,  if  you  do — not  one  tiny  bit,  not  a  bit!  " 

"There,  there!  "  McBride  soothed  her  rough 
ly,  while  his  blue  eyes  danced.  "Just  think  how 
proud  it  would  make  you,  little  woman.  Think 
of  the  grand  Mrs.  Corlis  rolling  down  the  street 
in  her  open  carriage,  just  to  call  on  you.  How 
all  the  neighbors  would  be  jealous  and  how  low 
they'd  duck  next  day." 

Gretchen  suppressed  her  sobs  to  hear.  Then 
commenced  afresh, 

"  I  won't — have  her  here — coming  'round  and 
prying — just  like  those — Methodist  women — and 
sniffing  at  my — oh,  oh,  at  what — I  used  to  be." 

49 


The  Mills  of  Man 

The  vast  arms  went  round  her  like  protecting 
walls. 

"  Pooh !  That  needn't  worry  you  none,  poor 
child.  She  ain't  that  kind  at  all,  Mrs.  Corlis  ain't. 
Sit  up,  now,  on  my  knee,  like  a  good,  obedient  girl, 
and  wipe  your  pretty  eyes,  while  Mike  tells  you 
what's  what.  There! — She's  like  me  and  other 
men,  Mrs.  Corlis  is.  She  knows  the  world,  I 
guess,  and  a  bit  of  human  nature.  And  that's  a 
thing  that  knocks  the  ignorant  discriminations  out 
of  man  or  woman,  Gretchen,  unless  they're  fools. 
From  what  I  seen  of  her  so  far,  I  should  judge 
that  to  be  the  Queen  Society  Bee  ain't  unlike  bein' 
Boss  of  the  Cook  County  organization.  That's 
my  opinion.  Either  of  us,  Mrs.  Corlis  or  me,  has 
got  to  take  the  world  as  it  comes  along,  and  not 
raise  no  holler  because  it  ain't  as  we'd  have  put  it 
up,  if  we'd  had  the  packin'  instead  of  God.  And, 
if  anybody's  askin',  to  try  to  get  along  with  every 
mother's  son  amounts,  before  you  end,  to  a  lot  of 
charity  or  near  it.  So,  I'm  tellin'  you,  you  ain't 
got  no  kick  comin',  Gretchen,  about  Mrs.  Corlis 
callin'.  She  won't  make  you  afraid,  even  if  she  is 
the  first  Chicago  lady  and  a  queen  all  over  the 
land.  I'll  go  you  a  bet,  she'll  turn  out  the  best 
friend  you  ever  had." 

So  Gretchen,  having  dried  her  eyes  on  her  hus 
band's  shirt  sleeves,  allowed  herself  to  be  com- 

50 


The  Mills  of  Man 

forted.  Soon,  indeed,  she  was  pressing  exhaus 
tive  inquiries.  Finally — 

"And  her  husband,  Mr.  Corlis? — Card  says 
she  used  to  know  him.  What's  he  like  ?  " 

"  Corlis?  Oh,  he's  smart,  and  he  thinks  he's 
a  dum  sight  smarter  than  he  is,"  McBride  an 
swered.  "  But  he  has  got  to  show  me,  yet,  it  ain't 
J.  J.  Jarrett's  millions  that  made  him — he's  got 
to  show  me  that.  Still,  Corlis  is  pretty  cute,  pretty 
cute  he  is." 


VI 

HILDEGARDE  BROWN 

GRETCHEN  slipped  from  her  lord's  knee. 
"  It's  the  back  door,"  she  said,  "  and  I 
guess  it's  Gard." 

She  went  into  the  kitchen.  McBride  heard  the 
unlocking  of  the  door,  followed  by  shrill  feminine 
greetings. 

"  Come  and  see  Mike,"  Gretchen  prattled. 
"  He  has  lots  to  say,  and  he  always  likes  to  hear 
you  go  on,  he  says." 

She  appeared  in  the  doorway,  an  arm  stretched 
back  to  tug  her  visitor. 

"  Here's  Gard,  Mike." 

"  Good,"  the  Boss  grunted,  hospitably. 

Gard  was  tall  and  angular.  Her  frame  was 
broad,  but  she  was  thin  through  front  to  back, 
Her  long  limbs  might  have  made  her  awkward, 
but  her  swiftness  saved  her,  lending  her  not  grace, 
but  the  aspect  of  grace.  The  paradox  extended  to 
her  features,  which  were  aquiline,  keen,  the  articu 
lations  all  edged,  as  it  were,  while  the  dark  gray 
eyes  glittered  like  steel  points;  yet  the  skin  which 
clothed  these  sharpnesses  was  fair,  with  the  tex 
ture  of  velvet  and  satin  both. 

Therefore  her  face,  had  it  not  been  so  indis- 

5* 


The   Mills   of  Man 

putably  incisive,  might  have  been  charged  with 
being  tender.  For,  despite  its  underlying  hard 
ness,  no  mean  lines  nor  bitter,  no  small  line  of 
spite,  appeared  at  the  nostrils  or  around  the 
mouth.  Indeed,  the  lips,  edged  though  they  were 
and  resolute,  had  inner  curves,  and  the  lower  lip, 
at  its  middle,  hung  a  bit.  Finally,  her  hair  was 
pale  gold,  like  the  aureole  of  a  saint,  and  it  flowed 
about  her  temples  and  on  her  neck  in  shining 
streamers  with  gleaming  eddies.  Had  Saint 
Michael  been  a  woman,  he  would  have  been  such 
a  woman  as  Gard  looked. 

"  Hello,  Gard,"  was  the  succinct  greeting  of 
the  Boss.  "  How's  biziness?  " 

"  I'm  still  cheating  the  public,"  flashed  Card's 
answer.  Her  clear  voice,  low  as  it  was,  pained 
the  ear-drums,  it  was  so  distinct.  "  And  you,  I 
suppose  you're  still  skinning  the  people." 

She  ended  with  an  infectious  laugh.  It  came 
like  silver  chimes  after  the  cutting  clearness  of  her 
talking  tones. 

"  Pretty  strong  language,  Gard,  as  usual," 
commented  the  Boss,  with  an  answering  roar. 
''  I'm  mighty  certain  you  find  it  pays  as  much  as 
I  do,"  he  added  when  his  laughter  ceased. 

"  Can't  say  I  do,"  she  retorted.  "  The  invest 
ing  public  is  pretty  smart,  you  know;  but  your 
victims,  the  patriotic  people,  they  relish  being 
gold-bricked." 

53 


The   Mills   of  Man 

"  Why  don't  you  drop  promotin'  then  and  go 
into  politics  with  me?  I'd  make  a  man  of  you,  a 
winner,  too." 

He  put  forth  the  idea  to  draw  the  lightning 
which  delighted  him. 

He  succeeded. 

"  Not  much.  I  might  steal  from  a  millionaire, 
but  I  wouldn't  touch  your  dirty  revenue,  Mc- 
Bride." 

Did  the  Boss  flinch?  Underneath  his  leathern 
visage  a  dull  red  appeared. 

"  But  what  if  I  showed  you  a  clean  graft,  Gard, 
profits  that'd  make  Jay  Gould's  mouth  water,  all 
in  a  way  that  wouldn't  make  no  deacon  sneeze?  " 

"  I  thought  you  thought  Tweed  a  big  stiff,  and 
copied  Croker." 

"That's  right;  you've  got  it.  But  what  I'm 
talkin'  is  a  brand  new  deal,  my  girl.  It  ain't  no 
scheme  to  raid  the  City  Treasury.  It  ain't  no 
hold-up  neither." 

"  Not  another  cinch  on  the  gamblers,  eh?  " 

"  Not  on  your  life.  It  ain't  no  such  thing.  It's 
bizness,  simon  pure.  I  furnish  the  pull,  my  side 
partners  the  dough — and  I  guess  we  can  bake  a 
cake  between  us.  But  what  I'm  askin',  Gard,  is 
your  office,  noons,  to  meet  in,  until  after  the  elec 
tion  bizness's  over." 

"  I  guess  it's  pretty  nearly  yours,  McBride, 
since  you  just  about  support  it,  as  it  is." 

54 


The   Mills   of  Man 

"  Oh,  I'll  let  you  in  on  the  ground  floor  of  the 
deal." 

"  Thanks;   perhaps  I  won't  want  to  be  let  in." 

"  Humph,  you  won't  be  so  dum  coy  when  I  tell 
you  who's  the  people — W.  H.  D.  Corlis  and  J.  J. 
Jarrett!"  McBride  looked  triumphant. 

Card  stiffened  as  with  death,  and  her  expression 
locked.  After  a  moment  she  said  quietly, 

"  No,  I  don't  care  to  be  mixed  up  with  that 
crowd.  I  know  what  their  names  mean." 

The  Boss  had  watched  her  narrowly.  He 
waved  a  hand. 

;'  Well,  I  can  have  the  office,  anyway,  can't  I?  " 

"  Of  course." 

"  And  when  you  feel  you  want  to,  any  old  time, 
Card,  you  can  get  in  at  the  basement,  even  if  we're 
goin'  up  ten  stories  every  month." 

''  I  won't  want,"  said  Card. 

"  Why  do  you  flare  up  so,  or  I  guess  it's  freeze, 
whenever  Mr.  Corlis'  name  is  mentioned  in  the 
conversation?"  asked  the  Boss. 

"  None  of  your  confounded  business,  McBride, 
if  you  want  to  know." 

McBride  exploded. 

Gretchen  purred  approvingly. 

'  You  do  Mike  such  a  heap  of  good,  Card, 
darling.  It  takes  you,  Sunday  nights,  to  stir  him 
up." 

Card  irrelevantly  demanded, 

55 


The   Mills   of  Man 

"  But  what  I  want  to  know,  McBride,  is  who 
you're  going  to  nominate  for  governor.  Got  any 
one  cropped  out  yet?  " 

"What  do  you  want  to  know  for?"  growled 
the  Boss. 

"  Because  I've  got  a  friend,  a  reporter  on  The 
Pundit,  outside,  waiting  on  the  corner,"  announced 
Card,  her  eyes  burning  despite  herself. 

"  Oh,  you  have,  have  you?  "  grunted  McBride. 
"  You  must  think  I've  turned  fool  over  night." 

"Well,  you  can  lie  about  it,  can't  you?"  she 
retorted,  "  enough  for  him  to  hang  a  story  on.  I 
never  knew  you  to  hesitate  about  lying  when  it 
served  your  ends,  and  I  guess  it  won't  hurt  you 
any  to  lie  once  in  a  righteous  cause." 

The  Boss's  face  was  wreathed  in  smiles. 

"  Humph,  who's  your  friend  outside?  It  ain't 
hospitable  to  leave  him  to  cool  his  shins." 

"  Oh,  it's  a  warm  night,"  said  Card.  "  His 
name's  Ruggles." 

Her  voice  lingered  on  the  name  and  there  was 
shyness  in  her  keen  face. 

"  Chris  Ruggles  of  The  Pundit?  I  know  him. 
Let  him  inside." 

Card  moved  to  comply. 

"  And  you  volunteered  to  get  him  an  interview, 
did  you?"  asked  McBride.  "  WTell,  I  like  your 
nerve." 

"  It  won't  hurt  you,"  she  rejoined,  with  char- 

56 


The   Mills   of  Man 

acteristically  defiant  humor.  '  You  don't  want  to 
play  the  clam  too  much  or  people  will  get  to  think 
ing  you  aren't  wise  as  an  owl,  but  only  dumb  as 
an  oyster.  That  wouldn't  be  good  for  your  busi 
ness." 

"  I'll  tell  him  something,  if  you'll  let  him  in," 
agreed  the  Boss,  as  if  he  felt  the  force  of  the  re 
mark. 

The  two  women  went  through  the  kitchen  to 
fetch  the  reporter.  Meantime  the  Boss  ruminated 
and  rumbled  a  little  to  himself. 

McBride  shook  the  newspaper  man  heartily  by 
the  hand. 

"  I  think  we  know  each  other  pretty  well,  if 
anybody's  askin',"  he  said.  "  And  you  know, 
Ruggles,  I  never  talk  none.  But  Card  here  says 
I've  got  to." 

"  He'll  tell  you  all  about  it,  Mr.  Ruggles," 
Card  announced  shrilly.  '  Just  you  keep  at  him. 
He's  got  it  all  rigged  up  beforehand.  The  Con 
vention's  set  to  go  off  like  a  patent  alarm  clock  at 
the  hour  wanted.  Pie's  told  each  speaker  exactly 
how  much  he  can  say  and  when  he's  to  sit  down. 
The  names  of  the  nominees  are  stuck  in  his  vest 
pocket  snug  up  to  his  own  fat  self  there." 

All  laughed  together,  the  Boss  with  them. 

"  I  am  the  only  one  alive  who  dares  twist  the 
lion's  tail,"  continued  Card,  her  eyes  exultant. 

57 


The   Mills   of  Man 

"  Come,  McBride,"  she  bade,  "  tell  Mr.  Ruggles 
whom  you've  ticked  off  to  head  the  slate." 

"  Humph !  to  hear  you  goin'  on,  people'd  sup 
pose  I  was  the  whole  thing  in  Illinois,"  demurred 
McBride.  "  I'm  only  interested  a  bit  in  Chicago 
politics,  Ruggles,  you  know." 

"  Anyway,  Mike  was  to  dinner  last  night  at  the 
Corlis's,"  announced  Gretchen,  triumphantly. 

She  had  been  bursting  for  an  opportunity  to  tell 
it,  and  this  seemed  to  her  as  good  an  occasion  as 
any. 

The  Boss  shot  a  glance  at  the  reporter. 

"  Don't  put  that  in  The  Pundit,"  he  warned 
him. 

"  Certainly  not,  Mr.  McBride." 

"  Good,"  the  big  fellow  grunted. 

"  Now,  I'm  tellin'  you,  young  man,  I  haven't 
been  interviewed  for  the  last  two  years,  and  if 
you're  set  on  it,  I  want  you  to  get  exactly  what  I 
say  without  any  of  them  frills  you  fellers  stick  on. 
I  want  to  let  them  high-toners,  them  Puritans  and 
silk-stockin's,  who  steal  but  never  swear — I  want 
to  let  'em  know  exactly  what  I  mean;  but  I  don't 
want  'em  sayin'  what  I  didn't  say.  Are  you  on?  " 

The  reporter  took  out  paper  and  pencil  and  pre 
pared  to  write  upon  his  knee. 

"  Here,  shove  up  to  the  table.  And  now  mind, 
here's  what  I'll  stand  for:  The  Cook  County 
organization  ain't  pledged  to  no  man  for  neither 

58 


The   Mills   of  Man 

governor,  nor  senator,  nor  both.  It's  goin'  into 
the  convention  a  week  from  the  comin'  Tuesday, 
solid,  and  it's  goin'  to  stay  solid.  It's  goin'  to 
look  after  its  own  interests  first  and  last  and  all 
the  time.  The  Cook  County  regular  organization 
ain't  only  good  Republican  on  election  day,  but 
good  Republican  between  times.  It's  goin'  to  be 
recognized  as  such.  The  Cook  County  organiza 
tion  wants  a  man  for  governor  who'll  be  polite  to 
it  when  he  gets  down  to  Springfield  as  well  as  just 
before  election  day,  and  for  senator  it  wants  a 
man  who  won't  be  ashamed  of  it  at  Washington. 
That's  all." 

The  Boss  had  spoken  slowly,  each  word  like  a 
soft  blow,  and  he  had  brought  his  fist  down  on 
the  table  silently  after  every  word. 

"  Now  read  it  over,  my  boy,  and  let's  see  how 
it  sounds. — That'll  do.  When  Senator  Dawes 
and  the  rest  of  them  fellers  read  that  ultimatum  in 
The  Pundit  to-morrow  mornin',  they'll  get  on  to 
the  fact  I'm  meanin'  bizness.  And,  by  holy 
smoke,  I  do." 

"  I  am  greatly  obliged  to  you,  Mr.  McBride," 
the  reporter  said.  "  It  will  be  an  exclusive  story 
for  The  Pundit,  won't  it?" 

u  I  guess  so,  Ruggles,  unless  the  other  papers 
send  their  men  over  here  to-night,  and  you  can 
trust  me  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  look  'em  up." 

59 


The   Mills   of  Man 

His  blue  eyes  twinkled,  seeming  to  admit  the 
reporter  into  an  enviable  fellowship. 

"  'Twas  this  way:  you  just  happened  to  drop 
down  on  me  when  I'd  about  made  up  my  mind, 
Card  helpin',  it  was  about  up  to  me  to  say  a  word. 
Well,  I've  said  it,  ain't  I? — and  mind,  don't  you 
change  no  word  or  fix  it  up — it  wasn't  no  college 
professor  who  spoke  it.  Let  it  stand  out  naked; 
Chicago  knows  my  style. — And  now  bizness  is 
done,  you  and  Card  draw  up  here,  and  Gretchen, 
she'll  fill  us  up  a  stein  apiece.  Let's  enjoy  home 
life  while  we  can,  's  my  sentiments." 

Card  smiled  gratefully  at  the  Boss  and  made 
no  more  personal  assaults  upon  him  that  night. 


60 


yii 

THE  OFFICE  IN  THE   "  OBELISK  " 

THE  "  Obelisk  "  rises  in  La  Salle  street  to 
the  height  of  seventeen  stories.  It  pro 
jects,  tower-like,  above  the  tops  of  the  ad 
jacent  buildings.  Within,  the  floors  and  walls  are 
tiled  in  white,  while  the  offices  are  finished  in  hard 
woods  and  marble  wainscoting.  Banks,  trust  com 
panies,  estates,  one  or  two  great  law  firms,  pro 
moters  of  large  enterprises,  are  the  tenants  of  the 
building. 

A  visitor  to  the  higher  floors  experiences  an 
aerial  sensation.  The  outer  walls  seem  thin  parti 
tions  against  space,  the  windows  are  so  wide  and 
the  piers  between  so  narrow,  that,  looking  out,  he 
feels  as  if  a  stumble  might  precipitate  him  into 
midmost  air,  and,  until  custom  reassures  him,  he 
is  persuaded  that  he  might  as  well  be  standing  on 
the  edge  of  a  precipice,  shielded  from  the  abyss  by 
only  a  fragile  pane  of  glass.  Then  he  remembers 
that  through  the  body  of  the  structure  runs  a  net 
work  of  steel  beams  and  girders,  a  hidden  skele 
ton,  and  his  knowledge  of  the  architectural  secret 
stands  him  in  place  of  the  assurance  of  the  eye. 

An  office  door  upon  the  fifteenth  floor  has 
61 


The   Mills   of  Man 

painted  on  its  clouded  glass  black  letters  which 
read,  "  H.  Brown — Mineral  Properties — Stocks 
and  Bonds — Investments." 

The  offices  comprise  a  suite  of  rooms,  the  inner 
most  of  which  has  a  private  entrance  opening  into 
the  hall  near  the  elevators.  That  door  is  unlet 
tered  and  holds  no  glass,  nor  could  any  one  sus 
pect  that  it  opened  into  offices  to  be  reached  pub 
licly  only  through  two  corridors. 

The  innermost  office  of  the  suite,  possessing  this 
side  entrance,  enjoys  a  wide  south  front  of  win 
dows,  which  for  the  purposes  of  light,  at  least, 
renders  it  but  a  recess  far  up  the  face  of  a  cliff. 
The  business  character  of  the  room  is  indicated  by 
the  large  mahogany  roll-top  desk,  and  at  its  far 
ther  end  by  a  long  table  set  about  with  ten  straight- 
backed  chairs,  all  of  a  pattern,  evidently  for  the 
use  of  a  meeting  of  the  directors  of  companies. 
The  room,  in  addition,  is  furnished  somewhat 
richly:  the  carpet  underfoot  is  thick;  four  good 
pictures  are  suspended  on  the  walls;  a  bronze 
clock  ticks  from  its  place  on  the  mantel-piece; 
brass  andirons  occupy  the  fireplace;  there  are 
three  or  four  luxurious  chairs  and  a  sumptuous 
leather-covered  lounge. 

The  outer  offices  are  devoid  of  ornament.  A 
number  of  flat-topped  desks  for  clerks  fill  the 
space  behind  the  wooden  bar,  which  rails  the  pas 
sage  to  the  inner  room.  Two  typewriters,  screwed 

62 


The  Mills  of  Man 

to  tables,  are  constantly  clicking  under  the  indus 
trious  taps  of  two  young  women.  A  huge  safe 
protrudes  from  one  wall.  An  office  boy  sits  near 
the  outer  door,  and  when  not  attending  to  the 
wants  of  callers,  is  forever  licking  stamps  to  en 
velopes. 

Hildegarde  Brown,  in  a  high-backed  swivel 
chair  placed  before  her  roll-top  desk,  was  enabled 
to  swing  half  about  and  put  her  feet  upon  the  low 
window  sill  or  the  steam  pipes  just  beneath  the 
sill,  and  so  look  out  upon  the  uneven  roofs  and 
the  sheer  gulfs  between  which  compose  the  land 
scape  offered  by  the  business  quarter  of  Chicago. 
At  that  altitude,  in  that  rectangular,  perpendicu 
lar  world,  dwelt  peace,  as  much  peace  as  is  possi 
ble  in  an  enormous  modern  industrial  city — the 
peace  of  the  upper  air. 

She  often  turned  thus  from  her  work  and  sat 
half-hours  through,  gazing  across  the  irregular 
planes  of  the  high  roofs,  penetrating  downwards 
in  the  chasms  of  the  streets,  idly  noting  the  belch 
of  steam  and  smoke  from  a  hundred  painted  iron 
chimneys.  To  her  it  seemed  somewhat  of  an  Al 
pine  prospect,  grandiose  if  not  grand. 

She  had  ample  leisure,  or  she  made  it.  Her 
business  was  an  affair  of  wits.  She  thought  and 
talked  and  issued  orders  to  the  clerical  force  with 
out. 

"  It's  a  regular  Irish  business,"  she  often  de- 

63 


The  Mills  of  Man 

clared  to  McBride.  "  You  people  are  a  success  at 
everything  but  work  and  I've  caught  it  from  you 
by  contagion.  The  police  force  or  some  City  Hall 
job,  that's  what  fits  the  Irish,  where  imagination 
doesn't  damage  any  and  they  aren't  kilt  per- 
spirin'." 

In  the  last  few  words  she  mimicked  the  Boss's 
speech  to  perfection. 

Card  swung  slowly  in  her  chair,  and  glancing 
out  of  the  window,  observed  to  her  visitor,  after 
her  own  peculiar  fashion, 

;'  What  a  deal  of  deviltry  those  roofs  we  see 
conceal !  By  Jingo,  I'd  cut  Chicago  to-morrow 
afternoon  and  hunt  a  hole  in  some  clean,  stupid 
place,  but  I'm  certain  that  before  twenty-four 
hours  had  elapsed,  positively  I'd  miss  the  hellish- 
ness.  Life  has  a  gait  to  it  here;  Chicago  may  be 
brutal,  may  be  ugly,  but  it's  got  a  hustle  to  it,  all 
the  same." 

Her  vehemence  neither  shocked,  surprised,  nor 
caused  her  visitor  to  smile.  The  humorous  recipi 
ency  of  Christopher  Ruggles  was  indeed  small, 
hardly  to  be  tickled  by  any  provocation,  while  as 
for  being  shocked,  he  had  too  long  ago  shaken  the 
last  dust  off  his  feet  upon  what  he  styled  "respecta 
bilities."  Lastly,  as  to  surprise,  no  friend  of  Card 
Brown  could  afford  to  be  surprised. 

Ruggles  was  a  serious,  perhaps  a  solemn  look 
ing  personage.  In  expression  he  was  sombre,  with 

64 


The   Mills  of  Man 

a  sombreness  that  not  long  ago  had  been  gloom, 
and  the  patient  look  of  his  sad  blue  eyes  betokened 
some  catholic  acquaintance  with  grief.  His  body, 
though  vigorous,  was  clumsily  made,  and  his  big 
feet,  as  he  moved  them,  seemed  heavy  to  lift  and 
were  certainly  heavy  wrhen  set  down.  His  dark 
brown  hair  was  thick,  his  beard  square-cut  and 
shot  with  red.  The  full  brows  above  the  brood' 
ing  eyes  denoted  intellectuality,  and  the  whole 
face  had  much  in  it  of  the  granitic  character  of 
the  New  England  race.  It  was  the  granite  of  en 
durance,  however,  rather  than  the  rock  of  aggres 
sion.  The  man,  indeed,  looked  baffled,  though 
not  beaten,  and  there  showed  in  his  eyes  a  won 
der,  as  if  he  were  constantly  called  upon  to  marvel 
at  experience,  which  daily  revealed  such  a  fund 
of  unsuspected  meanness  in  men,  and  such  a  ca 
pacity  for  brutality  in  nature. 

In  truth,  Ruggles  inevitably,  by  reason  of  his 
higher  qualities,  his  conscientiousness,  his  austere 
searching  after  truth,  and  his  lack  of  self-conceit, 
must  find  life  hard.  The  resiliency  which  adven 
turers  possess,  the  compensation  which  humor  af 
fords,  were  benefits  unknown  to  him. 

Perhaps  Card  Brown,  child  of  the  practical  life 
though  she  was,  divined  mistily  these  character 
istics  and  what  must  be  their  consequences  to  her 
friend.  At  any  rate,  her  instinct  from  the  first 
had  been  to  protect  him.  The  glance  she  ever 

65 


The   Mills   of  Man 

met  him  with  was  in  part  solicitous.  She,  who  was 
conventionally  uneducated,  had  what  Stevenson 
has  called  "  the  superstition  of  letters."  And  her 
keen  perception — a  special  gift  of  women — recog 
nized  in  Ruggles  the  presence  of  a  real  intellect. 
It  touched  her  compassion  as  well  as  her  sense  of 
the  disorder  which  constitutes  society,  that  this 
man  of  thirty-five,  superbly  educated,  highly  gifted, 
with  so  sincere  a  devotion  to  duty,  should  be  un 
able  to  find  a  use  for  his  talent  and  should  fulfill 
no  higher  function  than  that  of  a  reporter  on  the 
Chicago  Pundit. 

She  swung  her  chair  from  the  window  to  face 
him.  She  asked  what  he  thought  of  McBride. 

'  You  seemed  to  like  him  last  night,"  she  said. 
'  The  Boss  is  at  least  a  genial  sinner." 

"  I  haven't  the  least  doubt  that  he  possesses 
the  primitive  virtues,"  answered  Ruggles  gravely. 
"  He  is  certainly  more  pleasant  to  interview  than 
a  good  many  reformers.  That  is  always  it," — the 
reporter  smiled  in  a  removed  and  wintry  way, — 
"  good  motives  don't  improve  one's  charm." 

"  Well,  I'd  rather  trust  McBride  than  some." 
Her  gray  eyes  flashed  beautifully.  "  I  hate  a  Phar 
isee  ;  I  hate  a  Pharisee !  And  respectable  people 
have  such  mean  sins,  contemptible  deals  they  won't 
acknowledge  to  themselves — things  that  a  pirate 
like  McBride  wouldn't  stoop  to.  I've  got  so  I 
don't  look  for  saints  any  more.  And,  since  I'm 

66 


The   Mills   of  Man 

sitting  in  the  game,  I  follow  the  rules  along  with 
the  rest  of  the  boys  and  I  don't  care  what  the 
respectabilities  think  of  it." 

"  What  they  think  depends  eventually  upon 
how  far  you  succeed,"  said  Ruggles. 

u  And  I  don't  like  saints  either,"  continued 
Card  in  her  reckless  fashion.  "  I've  lost  my  taste 
for  them.  Unregenerate  human  nature  is  good 
enough  for  me.  To  love,  to  hate,  to  dare,  to  pro 
tect  what  one  loves  and  to  be  generous — that  may 
not  be  very  developed;  but  I  like  it  better  than 
the  pale  passions  of  these  complicated  fish.  These 
righteous  people  who  automatically  stop  loving 
when  the  loved  one  proves  not  worthy,  and  who 
only  hate  a  bad  principle  but  never  a  '  good ' 
man!" 

She  got  to  her  feet  and  stamped  once  or  twice 
to  emphasize  her  disdain. 

Ruggles  was  used  to  these  scenes.  It  cannot 
be  said  that  he  enjoyed  them,  but  knowing  Card 
for  what  she  was,  he  may  be  supposed  to  have  dis 
counted  them. 

He  rose. 

"  I  must  go,  Card.  It's  past  noon  now,  and, 
you  know,  I'm  required  to  report  to  the  paper 
at  half  past  one,  and  get  my  lunch  besides." 

;<  I  would  go  to  lunch  with  you,"  she  declared, 
"  but  you  heard  McBride  say  last  night  he'd  be 

67 


The  Mills  of  Man 

in  here  about  noon.  Good-by.  Come  in  to-mor 
row,  the  same  time  if  you  can." 

She  had  followed  Ruggles  to  the  outer  office. 
As  she  stopped  and  turned  to  bid  a  stenographer 
come  into  her  room  to  take  some  dictation,  the 
office  boy  at  her  elbow  said, 

"  A  gentleman  to  see  Mr.  McBride." 

Card  looked  up  and  blanched  to  her  lips.  Was 
it  terror  that  for  a  moment  usurped  the  clear  con 
fidence  of  her  eyes?  She  shrank  the  merest  frac 
tion  of  a  second,  then  sprang  erect  again,  while 
a  look  of  intensity  rushed  into  her  face  and  set 
a  rigid  hardness  there. 

She  sped  one  anxious  glance  toward  Ruggles 
to  note  if  he  had  seen;  he  was  blessedly  oblivious, 
involved  in  his  own  dream.  But  Mr.  Corlis,  fol 
lowing  her  glance  from  the  corner  of  his  eye,  re 
corded  a  mental  note,  which  might  or  might  not 
some  day  prove  valuable,  he  surmised.  Ruggles 
he  recognized  as  the  reporter  who  had  interviewed 
him  for  The  Pundit  two  or  three  times. 

This  passed  most  briefly.  Then  the  eyes  of 
magnate  and  business  woman  locked  for  a  second 
like  dueling  foils.  Two  spots  of  scarlet  burned 
in  Card's  cheeks  and  her  nervous  hand  gripped 
hard  on  the  knob  of  the  door  she  held.  Otherwise 
she  was  very  still. 

"  You  wish  to  see  Mr.  McBride?"    she  asked. 

"  If  I  may,"  he  rejoined,  coolly,  with  the  in- 
68 


The   Mills  of  Man 

different  ease  of  the  man  of  the  world.  "  Mr. 
McBride  made  an  appointment  with  me  here." 

"  It's  all  right,"  she  assured  him  in  a  tone  of 
business.  "  If  you  will  walk  into  the  private  office 
and  be  seated,  he  will  join  you  through  the  other 
door  in  a  few  minutes,  I  am  sure.  Do  you  care 
to  wait?  " 

"Thank  you,  I'll  wait,"  replied  Mr.  Corlis, 
walking  past  her  into  the  room. 

Card  closed  the  door  upon  him  and  went  about 
matters  in  the  outer  office  that  demanded  atten 
tion. 


60 


J 


VIII 
J.  J.  J. 

OHN  JAMES  JARRETT,  familiarly  re 
ferred  to  by  his  admiring  or  envious  fellow- 
citizens  as  J.  J.  J.,  was  a  very  plain  Ameri 
can.  He  wore,  perpetually,  baggy  trousers  and  an 
old  gray  slouch  hat,  and,  until  his  identity  became 
too  well  known  to  be  mistaken,  he  preferred 
traveling  in  the  common  coach  along  with  the 
rest  of  the  public.  It  enabled  him,  for  one  thing, 
to  discuss  politics  and  affairs  with  whosoever 
shared  his  seat.  In  that  manner,  he  declared,  one 
could  meet  a  cattleman  from  the  Southwest,  a 
wheat  farmer  from  up  in  the  Dakotas,  a  shoe 
drummer  from  New  England  and  a  coal  operator 
from  the  Hocking  valley,  and  pick  up  more  perti 
nent  information  in  a  half-day's  chat  than  could 
be  learned  from  forty  newspapers  and  a  dozen 
magazines. 

Of  late  years,  however,  such  indulgence  had 
been  impossible.  J.  J.  J.  had  become  too  well 
known.  His  unique  personality  was  unmistak 
able,  so  much  so  that  before  ten  sentences  had 
been  exchanged,  some  numskull  was  sure  to  re 
mark, 

70 


The   Mills   of  Man 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,  but  you're  the  everlasting 
photograph  of  that  old  skinflint,  J.  J.  Jarrett, 
big  bug  of  the  Transcontinental  and  Pacific." 

Whereupon  J.  J.  J.  would  cholerically  retort, 

"No,  I  ain't,  you  fool;  I'm  the  old  skinflint 
himself." 

Thus  was  he  forced  against  his  inclination  to 
the  seclusion  of  his  private  car,  on  his  continental 
journeyings  between  New  York  and  Chicago, 
Washington  and  Denver.  His  home,  legally,  was 
in  Denver,  where  he  had  built  himself,  as  a  sort  of 
proclamation  of  the  fact,  a  great  house.  But 
he  was  seldom  at  home.  His  wife  had  been  dead 
so  long  that  she  had  passed  from  his  memory 
and,  except  his  niece,  he  had  no  kin.  In  literal 
truth  he  was  a  wanderer  in  the  fashion  possible 
to  a  modern  millionaire.  He  inhabited  his  car, 
and  he  preferred  to  have  the  wheels  forever  mov 
ing  under  him.  Motion  stimulated  his  brain,  he 
thought;  at  least  he  was  sure  that  it  relieved 
his  melancholy. 

"  What  is  the  difference  between  me  and  a 
tramp?"  was  one  of  his  jokes.  'The  tramp 
rides  on  a  truck  underneath  and  I  upon  the  plat 
form  on  top." 

Mrs.  Corlis  had  listened  to  that  jest  four  hun 
dred  times. 

He  was  a  strange  man,  the  world  declared,  and 
verily  he  looked  the  part.  His  short  body  was 

71 


The   Mills   of  Man 

foreshortened  by  his  breadth,  though  little  flesh 
]ay  upon  the  frame.  His  chest  was  the  bellows 
for  a  giant  and  his  arms  had  a  gorilla's  length, 
his  hands  a  gorilla's  tenacity.  The  head  fitted 
to  this  peculiar  body  was  picturesque.  The  fore 
head  was  like  a  wall  and  from  its  summit  back 
ward  the  straight  brown  hair,  thickly  streaked 
with  gray,  descended  like  a  royal  mane  between 
big,  out-cropping  ears  to  the  velvet  collar  of  his 
coat. 

The  countenance  beneath  that  Periclean  ex 
panse  of  forehead  contained  crude  force  in  blocks. 
What  it  expressed  besides  was  a  genius  for  duplic 
ity.  The  jaw  was  massive,  the  cheekbones  rug 
ged,  and  the  nose  obtrusive,  but  the  bristling 
eyebrows  were  curved  ingenuously  and  the  dark 
eyes  themselves,  brilliant  as  jewels,  sharp  as  points 
of  steel,  were  always  on  the  watch. 

Yet  in  the  face  was  something  more — something 
elusive,  wistful,  always  unutterably  sad.  The 
mouth,  fringed  in  the  uneven  beard,  for  all  its 
terrible  decision,  was  tender  at  times;  the  eyes, 
when  their  watch  slept,  soft  as  a  poetic  girl's. 

It  was  a  face,  indeed,  which,  when  not  feared, 
men  loved,  they  knew  not  why — a  face  that,  had 
it  not  been  a  colossal  doer's,  would  have  been  a 
great  dreamer's.  America  and  the  West  decided 
It  must  be  the  first. 

J.  J.  J.  stepped  straight  with  no  turning  out  of 
72 


The   Mills   of  Man 

the  toes.  Some  wondered  if  an  Indian  strain  were 
not  crossed  in  his  inheritance — so  especially  his 
enemies,  whom  he  pursued  until  he  had  them 
down.  Others,  nearer  to  him,  subject  to  the  com 
pulsion  of  his  magnetic  eyes,  credited  him  with 
the  intensity  of  some  passionate  race,  Jewish,  per 
haps,  or  Spanish.  In  fact,  he  was  half  Yankee  and 
half  what  America  styles  Scotch-Irish,  and,  if  the 
Celtic  quarter  contributed  subtlety  and  fervor,  the 
three-fourths  Saxon  supplied  him  with  poise  and 
iron. 

He  was  a  son  of  the  West  beyond  the  Missis 
sippi.  He  had  succeeded  first  upon  the  "  Coast  " 
and  then  in  Colorado.  With  a  fortune  of  twenty 
millions,  dug  from  the  mines,  at  his  back,  he  had 
gone  into  railroads.  He  flung  lines  of  steel  across 
empty  states;  he  distributed  farms;  he  planted 
towns.  The  same  genius  that  mastered  the  com 
mercial  geography  of  the  West,  applied  to  war, 
had  made  a  Sherman  or  a  Kitchener.  He  fore 
casted  futures,  he  discounted  time,  he  stretched 
his  rails  along  strategic  routes  and  knit  the  Great 
Plains  to  the  Western  Ocean. 

The  master  of  a  gigantic  system,  with  a  hun 
dred  and  fifty  millions  to  his  credit,  J.  J.  J.  de 
veloped  a  third  and  final  phase.  He  forced  him 
self  into  that  small  coterie  who  wield  billions  as 
their  weapons;  who  seek  to  control  the  whole 
American  product;  who  by  the  power  derived 

73 


The   Mills   of  Man 

from  mechanical  invention  and  directed  through 
perfected  organization,  would  rear,  consciously 
or  unconsciously,  inside  the  Republic,  an  indus 
trial  and  commercial  despotism  capable  of  domin 
ating  the  globe. 

Through  these  successive  transformations  of  his 
life,  J.  J.  J.  preserved  his  individuality  unchanged. 
He  remained  a  simple  man  of  simple  habits,  a 
Westerner  in  manner,  in  his  democracy,  and  even 
in  his  sentimentality.  In  truth,  the  man  was  so 
original  that  he  could  not  conform  to  the  con 
ventions  of  New  York  any  more  than  formerly 
he  had  to  those  of  San  Francisco  and  of  Denver. 
Unaccountable,  unique,  a  dreamer  among  realists, 
a  melancholy  muser  upon  life's  verities,  a  thinker 
without  education  or  a  knowledge  of  books,  he 
surpassed  men  of  imagination  in  the  magnificence 
of  his  projects  and  astonished  mere  financiers  by 
the  celerity  with  which  he  reduced  visions  into 
facts  of  steel  and  steam. 

J.  J.  J.  reached  Chicago  Tuesday  morning. 
He  came  over  the  Northwestern  in  his  second 
private  car,  the  "  Swiftsure." 

When  his  carriage  drew  up  in  front  of  the 
Corlis  house,  he  was  welcomed  by  the  sight  of 
the  pride  of  his  heart  standing  at  the  top  of  the 
steps  before  the  great  arch  of  the  entrance  door. 

How  quickly  the  ungainly  old  man  got  out  of 
the  carriage  and  up  the  low,  broad  steps ! 

74 


The   Mills  of  Man 

She  leaned  over  him  from  her  height  and  kissed 
his  eyes,  holding  his  bearded  old  face  between 
her  hands. 

"  Uncle  Johnny,  Uncle  Johnny,"  she  repeated; 
—it  was  all  that  she  could  say  without  bursting 
into  tears. 

"  Child,  child,  my  little  Vicky,"  he  cried  in  a 
rapture,  and  he  held  her  off  by  his  long  arms  and 
gloated  over  her. 

She  drew  him  into  the  house,  saying, 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  have  you  come.  It  always 
lets  me  feel  so  irresponsible,  when  you  are  on  hand 
to  take  charge."  She  sighed. 

Despite  their  difference  of  stature  and  of 
breeding,  when  together  the  nearness  of  their  kin 
was  recognizable.  From  his  blood  came  her  olive 
cheeks  and  speaking  eyes ;  doubtless,  too,  her  quick 
impetuosity  which  so  often  unexpectedly  varied  the 
processes  of  her  calculations.  Both  had  been 
guilty  of  originalities  in  their  lives. 

Continued  scrutiny  upon  his  part  resulted  in 
the  question,  "  But  are  you  feeling  wholly  strong, 
Victoria?" 

She  met  his  query  impatiently;  then  dismissed 
it  with  her  dazzling  smile. 

"  Oh,  it's  only  that  we  are  growing  old  together, 
Uncle  Johnny." 

"  No,  no,"  he  protested,  not  liking  the  notion. 
"  You  are  to  come  after  me,  Victoria.  You  reap 

75 


The   Mills  of  Man 

where  I  have  watered.  I'm  the  rough  plough 
man;  you,  the  dainty  f caster." 

But  she  turned  the  subject. 

"  Are  you  aware  that  I  have  not  seen  you  since 
Christmas,  Uncle  Johnny?  Do  you  call  that  be 
ing  good  to  your  one  and  only  niece?  " 

"  Ah,  I  have  crossed  the  Sierras  and  the  Rockies 
just  to  see  my  child's  face;  to  learn  from  her  lips 
if  she  wanted  anything."  His  subtle  countenance 
looked  seraphic  as  he  uttered  these  words. 

She  leaned  a  cheek  against  his  shoulder. 

"  Snuggle  me  up  close,"  she  bade,  "  just  as  if 
I  were  a  child.  I'm  so  tired,  awful  tired,  of  play 
ing  the  grand  lady.  You  have  no  idea,  Uncle 
Johnny,  what  a  bore  it's  become.  Why,  it's  only 
to  you  I  can  let  down,  and  you  only  come  twice 
a  year.  To  the  Pater  I  am  a  mental  comrade,  a 
sort  of  secretary  to  his  mind,  and  to  dear  Walter 
I'm  a  helpmate,  I  suppose,  though  I  do  detest 
that  term.  Nobody  that  isn't  serious  has  any 
use  for  me,  Uncle  Johnny — nobody  but  you.  But 
to  you  I'm  still  your  little  girl,  am  I  not,  Uncle 
Johnny,  and  it's  so  restful,  oh,  you  can't  believe 
how  restful." 

That  whole  day  the  two  spent  together,  unin 
terrupted  except  for  the  telegrams  that  pursued  J. 
J.  J.  everywhere.  It  was  one  of  his  most  common 
jokes  that  when  St.  Peter  let  him  in  the  gate,  the 
first  angel  he  met  would  say,  "  You'll  find  your 

76 


The   Mills   of  Man 

telegrams  awaiting  you  all  right  enough,  Mr. 
Jarrett,  half  a  block  up,  left  hand  side,  the  Golden 
Street." 

The  telegrams  in  sequence  told  of  the  break 
in  Wall  Street  that  had  occurred  the  day  before 
and  was  then  developing  into  a  "  slump."  Rail 
way  stocks  had  taken  a  sharp  tumble  and  showed 
no  signs  of  a  rally  anywhere.  Besides  the  business 
telegrams  there  were  those  from  friends  he  knew 
and  from  members  of  the  public  who  knew  him; 
they  were  angry  or  reproachful,  many  of  them, 
stating  that  the  senders  of  them  had  had  trust  in 
him,  had  invested  in  his  properties  or  speculated 
according  to  his  theories,  and  that  now  they  had 
lost  money  or  been  ruined  by  reason  of  their  faith 
in  him. 

The  great  manipulator  grew  depressed  as  the 
day  lengthened  and  the  telegrams  increased.  He 
had  never  been  a  ruthless  man,  except  when  he 
hated  or  where  necessity  demanded  ruthlessness. 
Now  he  remarked  to  his  niece,  who  leaned  over  his 
shoulder  while  he  tore  up  a  message, 

"  Sometimes  I  wonder,  Vicky,  if  the  essence  of 
life  is  not  cruelty.  One  can't  put  a  foot  down 
without  dealing  death.  I  never  speculate;  I  only 
buy  to  bring  together,  to  end  factions,  to  bind 
weaknesses  into  one  strength,  in  fact,  to  benefit  the 
investors  and  ultimately  the  public  we  all  serve. 
But  I  can't  make  a  well-considered  move,  one 

77 


The   Mills   of  Man 

dictated  by  judgment  and  the  most  wholesome  ex 
pediency,  without  hurting  some  poor  man,  some 
widow,  some  aged  person.  Yet  if  I  stood  still, 
more  would  suffer  and  others  might  bungle  where 
I  do  well.  Power  is  a  fearful  thing,  Victoria,  and 
if  you  are  tired  of  your  kind  of  success,  upon  my 
soul,  I'd  rather  be  driving  a  pick  in  a  California 
gulch,  as  in  the  old  days,  than  to  be  lashed  every 
hour  by  this  string  of  money  I  have  got  and  that's 
got  me.  What's  in  it  all  for  me,  knowing,  as  I 
do,  I  can't  stop  without  bringing  down  a  crash,  and 
I  can't  go  on  without  treading  upon  fallen  men? 
God  knows  I  wish  He  had  made  His  world  upon 
a  simpler  plan  !  " 

She  hardly  tried  to  comfort  him;  to  do  so 
would  have  been  a  vain  thing,  she  knew.  What 
comfort  so  strong  a  soul  as  J.  J.  J.  got  in  this 
world  he  derived  from  himself;  that  was  his  dis 
tinction  and  his  sorrow. 

She  sought  instead  to  divert  his  attention  to  the 
matter  of  her  father's  reelection,  which  she  knew 
he  had  at  heart.  She  explained  the  situation  to 
him  fully. 

"  You  see  the  poor  Pater  has  a  stiff  fight  ahead 
of  him,"  she  ended.  "  It  seems  as  if  all  the 
enemies  he  had  ever  made  were,  somehow,  joined 
in  league;  they  decry  his  abilities  shamefully  and 
they  rake  up  all  that  ever  happened  or  might  have 
happened  or  that  they  wish  had  happened.  It 

78 


The   Mills   of  Man 

appears  very  pitiful,  doesn't  it,  to  see  an  old  man, 
after  so  many  years  of  service  and  of  honor,  so 
assailed?  " 

"  Cheer  up,"  bade  J.  J.  J.  "  The  old  lion  is 
not  going  to  die  this  year,  and  there's  an  old 
grizzly  in  the  background  the  dogs  must  reckon 
with  before  they  finish." 

In  her  delight  Mrs.  Corlis  hugged  his  huge 
head. 

"  Uncle  Johnny,  you  are — what  do  they  call  it? 
— you're  a  trump  !  " 

'  Your  Uncle  Johnny,  Vicky,  always  gets  into 
every  game,  as  I've  assured  you  lots  of  times." 
A  flash  of  pride  lit  up  his  melancholy  face.  "  You 
will  be  satisfied  with  Uncle  Johnny  before  you  get 
through." 

Had  any  one  suggested  to  J.  J.  J.  that  his  use 
of  "  corporate  influence  "  to  dictate  nominations 
or  to  qualify  elections,  was  unpatriotic  and  injuri 
ous  to  the  country,  the  magnate  would  have  char 
acterized  him  as  a  fool.  J.  J.  J.  loved  his  country. 
Just  as  he  possessed  the  old-fashioned  American 
reverence  for  women,  he  had  preserved  the  old- 
fashioned  devotion  to  the  Republic  and  the  old- 
fashioned  esteem  for  her  statesmen.  Administra 
tions  in  Washington,  of  either  party,  understood 
perfectly  that  in  a  crisis  of  the  country  the  millions 
of  John  J.  Jarrett,  to  the  last  of  them,  might  be 

79 


The   Mills   of  Man 

relied  upon  to  buttress  the  country's  credit  or  assist 
the  country's  cause. 

Senator  Simeon  E.  Dawes,  to  the  mind  of  J. 
J.  J.,  was  a  distinguished  statesman,  a  great  man, 
a  great  servant  of  the  United  States.  In  com 
parison,  he  himself  was  but  a  money-getter,  a  ser 
viceable  fellow,  and  could  he  have  been  of  mone 
tary  service  to  his  brother-in-law,  he  would  have 
felt  much  the  same  elation  as  if  he  had  shared  the 
privilege  of  paying  Daniel  Webster's  debts. 

He  was  aware  that  Senator  Dawes  had  more 
than  once  been  pressed  for  money.  He  knew  that 
the  Senator,  with  the  financial  opportunities  of  a 
lifetime  in  the  public  service,  had  remained  poor. 
The  Senator,-  in  his  integrity,  had  even  leaned 
backwards;  he  had  rejected,  not  aid,  but  op 
portunities,  which  J.  J.  J.  had  offered  him. 

When  J.  J.  J.  read  criticisms  of  some  of  "  Uncle 
Simeon's  "  political  methods,  he  remembered  how 
positively  ignorant  the  latter  was  of  even  the  rudi 
ments  of  business.  And  the  image  of  the  aging 
statesman,  alone  in  his  country  house  down  at 
Primrose  Hill,  learned,  sage,  patriotic,  incorrupti 
ble,  poor  in  a  time  when  the  best  of  men  did  not 
disdain  to  turn  "  an  honest  dollar,"  struck  J.  J. 
J.'s  imagination.  While  America  was  advised  by 
such  old  Romans,  argued  J.  J.  J.,  the  country  re 
mained  safe. 

The  chief  pride  J.  J.  J.  cherished  lay  in  the 
80 


The   Mills   of  Man 

marriage  of  his  only  sister  to  Senator  Dawes. 
The  child  of  that  union  he  had  doted  on  from 
birth,  and  as  she  grew  his  fondness  and  his  worship 
had  also  grown.  That  she  was  the  daughter  of  a 
great  statesman  and  had  inherited  her  father's 
mind  filled  him  with  contentment,  and  that  she  was 
yet  his  own  niece  allowed  him  a  fearful  sense  of 
ownership  in  what  he  felt  was  beyond  his  deserts. 
For  J.  J.  J.  was  modest  in  a  sense;  he  did  not  share 
in  the  delusion  of  the  day  that  because  a  man 
piled  up  millions  he  must  therefore  possess  an  in 
tellect.  He  might  himself  have  gone  to  the  Senate, 
he  could  have  bought  the  honor  several  times; 
but  he  did  not  fancy  himself  a  natural  born  legisla 
tor  and  he  thought  too  many  millionaires  were 
members  of  "  the  club  "  already.  He  was  re 
solved,  however,  to  keep  Senator  Dawes  in  the 
Senate;  if  the  people  did  not  know  enough  to  re 
turn  him,  J.  J.  J.  would  assist  their  perceptions  all 
he  could. 


81 


IX 

MR.  CORLIS  AND  HIS  SUPERIOR 

MRS.  CORLIS,  devoted  as  she  was  to  the 
furtherance  of  the  ambitions  of  her  hus 
band,  was  nevertheless  enabled  to  enjoy 
the  evidence  of  his  discomfiture,  apparent  but  to 
her,  whenever  the  presence  of  J.  J.  J.  imposed 
subordination. 

Mr.  Corlis  was  extremely  deferential  to  the  rail 
road  king;  but  it  chafed  him  secretly  that  his  def 
erence  was  exacted.  Mr.  Jarrett's  manner  never 
varied;  it  was  that  of  a  blood  relation  to  a  fascin 
ating  younger  man,  whose  character,  according  to 
an  old  man's  standards,  was  not  fully  formed. 
Sometimes,  unexpectedly,  the  magnate  would  re 
gard  Corlis  through  half  shut  lids  and  maybe  at 
the  conclusion  of  his  scrutiny  would  compress  his 
lips.  Upon  the  whole,  however,  his  treatment  of 
his  niece's  husband  denoted  the  toleration  of  sus 
pended  judgment  plus  an  inclination  to  accept  him 
at  face  value.  Yet  J.  J.  J.  was  not  at  all  backward 
in  making  the  fact  clear  that  what  he  had  done  for 
Corlis  was  for  "  Vicky's  sake,"  and  in  no  measure 
due  to  the  merits  of  the  man  himself,  however  con 
siderable  they  might  be. 

82 


The   Mills   of  Man 

At  dinner  that  night  Mr.  Corlis  was  disposed  to 
be  pleased  with  himself. 

"  McBride  and  I,"  he  announced,  "  have  swept 
the  primaries.  We've  got  two-thirds  of  the  wards. 
The  reformers  are  nowhere,  and  we  will  go  into 
the  Convention  with  a  solid  body  of  four  hundred 
delegates  to  deliver  as  we  please.  It  is  the  first  time 
exhaustive  New  York  methods  have  been  applied 
in  Chicago;  it  illustrates  the  difference  between 
scientific  procedure  and  amateurish  guess-work. 
You  have  seen  the  same  thing  in  railroading,  Mr. 
Jarrett.  Of  course,  the  newspapers  will  all  be  full 
of  McBride  and  what  a  Croker  to  Chicago  he  has 
become;  but  the  few  who  understand  know  who 
told  him  how,  who  taught  him  the  game,  whose 
directions  he  obeyed." 

Mr.  Corlis  was  justified  in  his  elation;  he  had 
much  reason  for  self-congratulation.  Moreover, 
he  loved  these  outbursts  of  vanity,  these  songs  of 
triumph  in  the  bosom  of  his  family,  which  he  was 
too  astute  to  indulge  in  elsewhere.  And  he  was 
so  much  elated  that  he  could  not  momentarily  re 
gard  J.  J.  J.  as  a  restraining  presence. 

The  latter  asked  some  questions  concerning  the 
success  at  the  primaries;  but  Mrs.  Corlis  fancied 
he  was  scarcely  pleased  with  her  husband's  paean, 
and  accordingly  she  shifted  their  interest. 

"  Walter,"  she  announced,  "  I  have  told  Uncle 
Johnny  of  your  scheme,  yours  and  Mr.  McBride's, 

83 


The  Mills  of  Man 

and  I've  half  persuaded,  half  coaxed  him  into  be 
lieving  it  may  be  a  great  idea.  Have  I  not,  Uncle 
Johnny?  All  he  now  requires,  Walter,  is  the 
facts  and  figures  from  you  and  he  will  become  en 
thusiastic,  I  prophesy." 

"Is  it  true?"  Mr.  Corlis  bowed  as  only  he 
could  bow.  "  We  shall  be  delighted  if  we  can  en 
list  your  interest,  Mr.  Jarrett.  For  myself,  I'll 
swear  it  is  the  most  lucrative  enterprise  in  Christen 
dom,  and  I  hope  you  will  agree  with  me,  as  Vic 
toria  does." 

"I'll  listen,"  agreed  J.  J.  J.  "I  promised 
Vicky.  What  is  it  you  want?  "  It  was  the  blunt 
question  with  which  the  magnate  met  every  one, 
for  every  one  he  met  was  a  solicitor  of  some  kind. 

Mr.  Corlis  answered  in  a  word, 

"  We  want  you  to  finance  the  campaign,  Mr. 
Jarrett,  and  McBride  and  I  will  handle  the  politics 
of  it  here  in  Chicago  and  in  Springfield." 

J.  J.  J.  smiled.     He  liked  a  pithy  answer. 

"  Well,  I'll  look  into  it,  I'll  look  into  it,"  he 
promised.  "  Vicky  seems  to  want  me  to  very 
much,  and  as  you've  learned,  Corlis,  what  your 
wife  wants  goes  very  far  with  me." 

"  The  merits  will  commend  it  for  itself,"  re 
sponded  Mr.  Corlis,  drily,  allowing  it  to  be  seen 
that  he  was  a  bit  put  out. 

"  Not  with  me,  unless  Vicky  first  approves," 
said  Mr.  Jarrett,  pointedly.  But  he  continued  in 

84 


The  Mills  of  Man 

a  fatherly  tone,  perhaps  to  show  that  he  meant  no 
offense  to  Corlis, 

"If  you  want  me  to  look  at  it,  my  boy,  you'll 
have  to  let  me  see  the  papers  right  after  dinner. 
I  must  go  to  New  York  to-night,  from  the  tele 
grams  I  have  received.  That  market  must  be 
bolstered  up  and  taken  advantage  of.  And  it 
makes  me  sick  to  think  of  the  want  and  ruin  that 
will  stare  hundreds  of  poor  people  in  the  face  if 
a  panic  comes  just  now.  Poor  fools,  they  never 
seem  to  learn." 

He  fell  abruptly  into  a  brown  study  as  was  his 
habit,  and  they,  who  knew  him  well,  respected  his 
mood. 

"  By  God,"  he  cried  suppressedly,  at  last,  "  if 
I  were  the  government,  I'd  hang  every  stock 
broker,  but  I'd  stop  that  game." 

Again  he  mused.  The  strange  head  drooped 
and  the  dark  eyes  stared  without  power  of  sight, 
as  if  a  trance  had  come  upon  him.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Corlis  talked  together,  pretending  not  to  notice 
him. 

When  presently  he  lifted  up  his  head  again,  his 
niece  asked  with  concern  if  he  were  not  coming 
back  to  her  for  a  longer  visit. 

'  Yes,  child,"  he  answered.  "  I  think  I'll  come 
right  back  to  you.  I  want  to  see  that  Convention. 
It  will  divert  me.  Expect  me  some  time  along 
about  Saturday  or  the  following  Monday." 

85 


The  Mills  of  Man 

"  Ah,  that  will  be  delightful,"  declared  Mrs. 
Corlis.  "  The  Pater  comes  Saturday  himself.  You 
can  see  him,  Uncle  Johnny,  and  he  can  see  you, 
and  I — I  will  have  you  both  together.  Nothing 
could  please  me  so  well." 

"  Good,"  responded  J.  J.  J.  "  I'll  make  a  point 
of  it,  Vicky,  to  be  back  by  Sunday  anyhow. 
There'll  either  be  a  howl  in  Wall  Street  or  there 
won't  by  Friday,  and  I  can't  help  them  after  that. 
— That  reminds  me  too,  Corlis,  you  mean  to  help 
the  Senator  in  his  fight,  don't  you?  I  mean  you 
and  this  fellow  McBride." 

"  He  is  to  be  endorsed  for  reelection  to  the 
Senate  in  the  Convention;  that  is  part  of  the 
plan,"  replied  Mr.  Corlis. 

"  If  we  can  only  get  him  to  agree  to  be  friends 
with  the  Boss,"  Mrs.  Corlis  added  in  explanation, 
thereby  innocently  stating  what  her  husband  wished 
to  leave  unsaid. 

J.  J.  J.  looked  for  enlightenment  to  Corlis,  who 
hastened  to  reveal  just  enough  to  satisfy  his  inter 
locutor. 

"  McBride  is  willing  and  the  Senator  must  be, 
Mr.  Jarrett.  Egypt,  with  Governor  Ransom,  his 
former  standby,  has  turned  against  him.  The  Sen 
ator  will  thoroughly  appreciate  the  exigency,  I  am 
sure,  and  we  shall  have  no  trouble  in  bringing  him 
to  an  understanding  with  McBride." 

The  magnate's  manner  was  as  mild  as  milk. 
86 


The   Mills  of  Man 

"  Certainly  we  must  leave  no  stone  unturned  to 
reelect  the  Senator.  You  understand  that,  Corlis. 
It  is  a  family  matter  and  I  leave  it  to  you.  And, 
now  we've  finished  dinner,  if  you  will  drive  down 
with  me  to  the  station,  you  can  explain  your  project 
to  me.  We'll  have  as  much  as  half  an  hour  in  my 
car  before  the  train  starts,  and  if  I  like  your 
scheme,  I'll  tell  you  whether  I'll  go  into  it  and 
whether  I'll  let  Vicky  put  her  money  in." 

Mr.  Corlis  cordially  expressed  his  sense  of  obli 
gation.  He  looked  cheerful,  but  at  heart  he  was 
seething  with  rebellion,  in  the  first  place,  because 
the  favor  was  forthcoming  through  his  wife's  in 
tercession,  and  in  the  second,  because  J.  J.  J.'s 
expressed  wish  about  the  reelection  was  in  reality 
an  order.  He  kept  his  head,  however,  for  he 
realized  the  value  of  the  chance  offered  him. 

Mr.  Corlis  was  not  above  profiting  by  his  wife's 
intermediation — indeed,  as  we  have  seen,  he  fre 
quently  prompted  her  action  in  his  behalf — but 
the  fact  that  he  was  dependent  upon  it  awakened 
his  resentment.  However,  he  congratulated  him 
self  that  if  his  present  project  succeeded,  it  would 
emancipate  him,  in  a  large  degree,  from  the  mil 
lions  of  his  wife  and  the  favor  of  J.  J.  J. 

In  a  measure  his  political  ambitions  likewise  pro 
ceeded  from  his  relationship  to  the  family  into 
which  he  had  married.  Some  day  he  hoped  to 
be  relieved  from  the  shadow  of  the  fame  of  Sen- 

87 


The   Mills   of  Man 

ator  Dawes.  One  thing  comforted  him :  J.  J.  J. 
and  his  father-in-law  were  both  old  men;  he  was 
forty-five.  They  must  decline;  he  had  not  yet 
touched  his  zenith. 

The  carriage  was  announced.  Mr.  Corlis 
stepped  outside  to  speak  to  the  coachman,  while 
J-  J-  J->  wrapped  in  the  cloak  he  preferred  to  an 
overcoat,  bade  his  niece  good-by.  She  noticed  his 
depression 

;'  I'm  sorry  to  have  you  go  off  alone,  Uncle 
Johnny.  If  it  were  not  for  these  politics  I  would 
go  with  you.  You  ought  to  stay  a  day  and  let  me 
cheer  you  up."  She  stooped  to  kiss  the  old  man 
on  the  mouth. 

He  held  both  her  hands  tightly  clasped  within 
his  own. 

"  I  hate  to  go,  Vicky,  and  I  hate  to  do  what  I 
know  I  shall  have  to  when  I  get  to  New  York. 
To  have  power  is  to  have  a  night  hag  on  one's 
back.  And  are  we  ever  permitted  to  choose  be 
tween  the  good  and  the  bad  in  this  world?  It's 
nothing  but  a  choice  between  evils  that  we  get." 

She  watched  him  down  the  steps,  the  light  from 
the  hall  thrown  out  into  the  night  over  him.  He 
turned  at  the  bottom  and  gazed  back  at  her  long 
ingly,  she  thought.  How  grotesque,  how  pictur 
esque  he  was !  Almost  misshapen,  but  with  what 
points  of  dazzling  beauty — those  unfathomable 
eyes,  that  woman's  tender  smile ! 

88 


The   Mills   of  Man 

He  left  Tuesday  night.  Thursday  morning 
he  was  in  Wall  Street.  The  crash  of  stocks  re 
sounded  from  London  to  San  Francisco.  The 
thousand  and  one  small  speculators  were  "  cleaned 
out;  "  the  plan  of  the  masters  of  finance  was  ruth 
lessly  executed.  J.  J.  J.  effected  the  combination 
he  desired.  He  blasted  his  way  through.  If  war 
has  its  necessities,  so  also  has  finance. 


X 

THE  REPORTER  FROM   THE  PUNDIT. 

MRS,     CORLIS    strode    back    and    forth, 
through    the    empty    rooms,    after   Uncle 
Johnny  and  her  husband  had  gone.     The 
old  man's  depression  and  its  cause,  as  revealed  by 
the  few  words  he  had  let  fall,  served  to  stir  again 
in  her  mind  the  old  impossible  question  which  had 
pursued  her,  at  intervals,  all  through  her  life — 
''  Why  have  I  more  than  I  know  what  to  do  with, 
while  the  woman  around  the  corner  must  pawn 
her  soul  to  get  bread  to  stop  her  hunger?  " 

She  knew  how  vain  the  question  was.  She  had 
assured  herself  a  thousand  times  that  all  her  riches, 
however  used,  could  not  avail  to  alter  by  a  particle 
the  eternal  division  between  those  who  have  and 
those  who  have  not.  The  Biblical  solution  she 
knew  was  no  solution,  and,  if  attempted,  must  ag 
gravate  the  trouble.  At  times  she  was  even  half 
persuaded  the  trouble  did  not  exist,  except  in  the 
fancy  of  over-conscientious  people. 

Mr.  Corlis  had  feudal  ideas  upon  the  matter. 
He  believed  in  great  power  for  the  few  and  in 
the  duty  of  the  few  to  look  after  their  dependents. 
His  wife  observed  that  in  practice,  however,  he 

90 


The   Mills   of  Man 

was  keen,  excessively  so,  about  the  power,  but  in 
clined  to  laxity  in  regard  to  the  obligation. 

He  supported  his  theory  of  the  few  versus  the 
many  by  a  dogma  concerning  blood  and  family. 
She  had  heard  it  many  times.  She  knew  he  was 
vastly  proud  of  the  Virginian  blood  of  his  mother, 
and  he  affected  to  believe  that  the  virtue  of  blood 
endured  for  generations  and  that  history  showed 
that  the  natural  rulers  of  society  were  the  few  of 
the  patrician  strain.  Yet  observation  had  taught 
her  that,  whatever  her  husband's  abstract  respect 
for  blood  might  be,  in  conduct  he  flattered  the  pos 
sessors  of  money  and  eschewed  the  acquaintance 
of  impecunious  patricians,  even  such  as  possessed 
race-horse  pedigrees. 

However,  he  was  convinced  of  his  own  right  di 
vine,  and  perhaps  that  exhausted  the  real  function 
of  his  dogma.  His  great  ambition,  to  which  finan 
cial  and  political  success  were  incidental,  was  to 
found  a  family.  His  wife  acquiesced  in  practice, 
but  she  reserved  her  mind.  His  instigation  was 
responsible  for  her  complete  devotion  to  fashion 
able  society,  and  she  lent  all  her  resources  to  aid 
him  in  realizing  his  aim. 

But  sometimes  it  struck  her  how  un-American 
the  aspiration  to  found  a  family  was;  sometimes 
it  seemed  to  her  that  the  generalization  concerning 
the  virtue  of  aristocratic  blood  and  of  patrician 
family  was  but  a  phase  of  the  infinite  glorification 


The   Mills   of  Man 

of  self-love.  She  had  great  social  knowledge, 
possibly  as  much  as  any  woman  in  America,  and 
truthful  to  herself  as  she  was,  with  that  strong, 
exact  mind  of  hers,  she  could  not  but  be  aware 
what  preposterous  fiction  the  legend  of  American 
families  was.  At  the  utmost,  descent  in  America 
was  "  lineaged  respectability." 

She  was  passing  through  the  hall  in  her  restless 
journeying,  when  she  heard  the  footman  refusing 
a  reporter  admittance  to  the  house. 

"  Mr.  Jarrett  has  left  for  New  York  and  the 
family  cannot  be  disturbed." 

"  When  did  Mr.  Jarrett  leave?  "  she  heard  the 
reporter  question. 

"He's  left;  that's  all  you'll  learn  from  me, 
young  man,"  the  footman  replied. 

Mrs.  Corlis  frequently  did  impulsive  things, 
things  sometimes  that  took  the  breath  of  her  world 
away.  She  did  one  of  the  least  of  them  now. 

She  stepped  forward.  "  Simpkins,"  she  or 
dered,  "  tell  the  caller  Mrs.  Corlis  will  see  him." 
Then  she  walked  down  the  great  hall. 

One  glance  assured  her  that  she  had  rightly 
recognized  the  voice.  She  extended  her  hand, 
smiling  with  that  kindly  graciousness  that  was  all 
her  own. 

"  It  is  Christopher  Ruggles,  is  it  not?  I  know 
you  by  your  eyes,  and  I  have  not  seen  you  for  at 
least  sixteen  years.  Come,  sit  down  by  me,  for 

92 


The   Mills   of  Man 

I  want  to  learn  all  about  you,  Christopher,  and 
what  you  are  doing  here  in  Chicago.  Of  course 
you  remember  what  excellent  friends  we  used  to 
be  in  Primrose  Hill." 

But  Ruggles  had  been  sent  out  by  The  Pundit 
to  find  J.  J.  J.  and  to  interview  the  latter  on  the 
financial  situation.  Consequently,  he  had  no  time 
to  spare,  even  for  a  new-found  old  friend.  But 
while  she  appreciated  his  exigency,  Mrs.  Corlis 
would  not  let  him  go  until  he  had  promised  to  ap 
pear  at  luncheon  the  next  day  at  two  o'clock. 
Then  she  told  him  where  to  look  for  her  uncle 
and  he  hurried  oft  to  reach  the  station  before  Mr. 
Jarrett's  train  pulled  out. 

She  inquired  of  Mr.  Corlis,  when  he  returned, 
if  The  Pundit  reporter  had  succeeded  in  catching 
Uncle  Johnny.  No,  Mr.  Corlis  replied,  he  had 
himself  met  the  reporter  coming  in  the  station  as 
he  was  leaving  it. 

She  told  her  husband  that  she  had  discovered 
an  old  Primrose  Hill  friend  in  the  newspaper  man, 
and  that  she  had  invited  him  to  luncheon  next  day 
in  order  to  talk  over  old  times  with  him. 

Corlis  looked  supercilious. 

"  I  am  invariably  courteous  to  newspaper  men 
from  policy  and  I  will  caution  Simpkins  for  his 
impertinence,"  he  remarked.  "  But  as  for  asking 
a  reporter  to  luncheon — they  usually  are  a  pushful 
lot.  You  say,  too,  you  have  known  nothing  about 

93 


The   Mills   of  Man 

this  fellow  since  you  left  Primrose  Hill,  that  you 
haven't  seen  or  heard  of  him  for  sixteen  years  ?  " 

"  Oh,  as  for  that,  Chris  Ruggles  was  too  in 
trinsically  good  and  simple  to  have  turned  out 
badly,"  she  rejoined.  "  He  is  the  kind  to  have 
made  mistakes,  but  not  to  have  gone  wrong.  The 
Pater  used  to  be  interested  in  him  and  I  remember 
that  he  always  had  a  mind.  I  am  quite  curious 
to  know  what  he  has  been  through  and  what  he 
thinks." 

'  Well,  I  can  tell  you  one  thing,  Victoria,  if 
you  want  to  know.  McBride  has  a  clever  woman 
who  does  his  investment  business  and  that  sort  of 
thing.  The  Boss  and  I  meet,  noons,  in  her  office 
in  "  The  Obelisk,"  and  that's  why  I  know  of  her. 
I  have  seen  this  fellow  of  yours  in  there. — Oh,  I 
don't  mean  that  there  is  anything  irregular.  She 
is  too  vixenish,  I  should  judge,  and  knows  too  well 
how  to  take  care  of  herself." 

''  Well,  that  kind  are  sometimes  the  most  de 
voted.  What  is  her  name?  " 

"  Brown — Hildegarde  Brown.  She  looks  as  if 
she  might  be  devoted,  if  she  set  about  it." 

"  I  hope  so.  He  has  a  desolate  look  in  his 
eyes  and  a  capable  woman  is  exactly  what  he 
needs." 

"She's  all  that,  I  fancy,  Victoria."  Mr.  Corlis 
laughed.  "  But  don't  be  too  quick  in  your  en 
thusiasm,  Mrs.  Corlis,"  he  added.  "  A  reporter 


The   Mills   of  Man 

as  a  fad,  you  know,  might  be  more  inconveniently 
distasteful  than  a  literary  upstart,  or  a  sentimental- 
voiced  young  clergyman." 

The  luncheon  next  day  left  Mrs.  Corlis  in  a 
quandary.  It  pointed  the  question :  Were  men  to 
be  divided  into  two  classes,  patricians  and  plebe 
ians,  according  to  the  rank  of  their  ancestors,  or 
the  evidence  of  their  o\vn  success  and  failure,  the 
amount  of  money  they  possessed,  or  the  degree 
of  poverty  they  endured? 

The  personality  of  Ruggles  itself  provoked 
speculation  in  her  mind.  Undoubtedly  he  was  the 
same  old  Chris  she  had  once  liked  so  well,  when 
she  was  a  young  lady  of  twenty-three  and  he  a 
rustic  boy  of  eighteen.  The  brown  beard  did  not 
disguise  him,  nor  the  stoop  in  the  shoulders  alter 
him.  The  same  familiar  simplicity  of  truth  was  in 
his  face  and  the  deep  blue  eyes  expressed  the  same 
old  wistful  wonder.  They  were  sadder  now  than 
then  and  the  deep  lines  about  the  mouth  told 
of  spiritual  despairs.  Otherwise  he  was  the  old 
Chris,  awkward  as  ever  he  had  been,  a  refined 
mind  and  spirit  habited  within  an  ungraceful,  al 
most  an  uncouth,  body.  Was  such  mismating  of 
patrician  quality  and  plebeian  stuff  characteristic 
of  democracy  and  modern  life?  Mrs.  Corlis  won 
dered. 

Then  there  were  the  ideas  she  had  drawn  from 
the  reporter. 

n  95 


The   Mills   of  Man 

She  had  said  to  him, 

u  I  beg  you  to  tell  me  what  you  are  doing,  how 
you  have  succeeded  and  for  what  you  are  hoping, 
Christopher."  The  maternal  interest  in  her  face 
had  been  beautiful.  'Just  as  in  the  old  days; 
precisely  as  you  used  to  do.  I  have  cherished  very 
great  expectations  for  you  with  your  intellect  and 
all  the  knowledge  I  was  sure  you  would  accumu 
late.  Some  day,  I  have  been  telling  myself,  I  will 
hear  of  Christopher;  some  day  he  will  make  a 
name  for  himself." 

"  But  I  really  have  done  nothing  in  the  world, 
as  you  would  count  it,  Mrs.  Corlis,"  he  had  an 
swered,  perhaps  a  bit  regretfully,  but  not  at  all 
shamefacedly.  She  had  even  suspected  that  some 
shade  of  humble  superiority  colored  the  tone  of 
his  reply. 

"  Tell  me,  at  least,  why  it  is  you're  working  on 
a  newspaper?  "  she  had  asked.  "  Mine  is  the 
privilege  of  an  old  intimacy,  Christopher." 

''  Simply  to  make  a  living,"  he  had  said. 

"  Become  tiresomely  practical  like  all  the  rest  of 
us  in  this  work-a-day  age,  you  mean  ? — Oh,  Chris, 
I  didn't  believe  that  would  be  the  end  of  all  your 
dreams."  Actual  disappointment  was  in  her 
voice. 

"  Nevertheless  it  is,"  he  had  answered,  lifting 
to  her  his  candid  eyes.  "  And,  Mrs.  Corlis,"  he 
spoke  earnestly,  "  from  what  I  have  learned  of 

96 


The   Mills   of  Man 

life,  to  be  a  good  ordinary  man  is  to  be  quite  a  suc 
cess,  and  to  make  an  honest  living  a  very  noble 
achievement." 

"  No  doubt."  Her  acquiescence  had  been  a  lit 
tle  cold.  "  What  you  say  is  literally  true — for  an 
ordinary  man.  But  you  never  were  an  ordinary 
man,  Christopher.  Are  you  so  much  of  a  Socialist 
that  you  must  drag  yourself  down  as  well  as  seek 
to  level  everybody  else?  " 

She  had  smiled  as  if  daring  him  to  accept  the 
classification. 

"  Oh,  I  am  nothing,  I  can  assure  you,  Mrs. 
Corlis,"  he  had  answered  with  a  shrug.  "  Only," 
he  had  added  gravely,  "  I  think  I  may  say  I  have 
grown  more  real." 

She  had  rallied  him,  a  trifle  vexed  perhaps  that 
he  had  refused  to  pose. 

"  Oh,  then,  you  are  a  realist,  not  a  Socialist." 
She  had  seen  by  his  flush  that  her  jest  to  him  was 
earnest.  Sympathetically  she  had  bidden,  "  Come, 
tell  me  what  is  this  new  gospel,  Christopher,  if,  in 
deed,  it  be  a  gospel." 

His  slow  face  had  gradually  lighted  up,  while 
in  the  dreaming  eyes  faint  sparkles  of  defiance  had 
appeared. 

"  I  will,  if  you  wish  it,  although  I  warn  you, 
you  will  not  like  it,  when  I  am  done." 

"  Tell  me  anyhow,  Christopher.  I  am  always 
interested  in  whatever  you  may  think." 

97 


The   Mills   of  Man 

"  It  is  not  very  much.  Just  this :  We  Ameri 
cans  are  practical  people  and  already  we  have  rid 
ourselves  of  most  illusions  and  preposterous  fic 
tions.  We  like  to  get  down  to  hard  pan,  as  we 
say;  we  dislike  to  get  fooled.  I'm  down  to  hard 
pan,  or  near  it.  I'm  convinced  that  the  only  no 
bility  lies  in  work;  in  helping  to  bear  the  brunt; 
in  taking  one's  share  of  the  hardest.  The  man 
who  does  not  is  a  skulker,  a  coward,  and  a  lazy 
bones.  To  be  a  knight,  '  a  man  of  honors,'  chiv 
alrous  within  the  limits  of  a  class,  and  a  parasite 
upon  toil,  isn't  to  be  valiant.  The  soldier's  place  is 
in  the  breach,  and  the  deadliest  struggle  is  not  on 
the  battleship  or  in  the  regiment,  but  in  the  fac 
tory  and  on  the  farm.  To  be  superior  to  the  com 
mon  duty  of  mankind  is  to  be  affected,  vulgar,  con 
temptible,  mean." 

'  Then  you  believe  that  aristocracy,  so-called, 
is  a  sham?"  had  been  her  immediate  question. 
"  But  what  of  its  function  to  form  manners,  cher 
ish  refinement,  develop  art?  " 

His  lip  had  curled. 

'  They  play  very  little  part  in  the  whole  life  of 
mankind." 

"  Exactly,"  she  had  argued,  "  and  they  would 
play  none  at  all,  but  for  aristocracy.  That  is  the 
justification  for  aristocracy-,  its  excuse  for  being. 
For  you  cannot  deny  that  those  things  are  valu 
able?" 

98 


The  Mills  of  Man 

The  man  had  forgotten  the  great  house  he  sat 
In  and  all  conventional  respect.  His  face  had 
grown  almost  distorted  with  the  force  of  his  con 
tempt. 

"  What  cant!  "  he  had  cried.  "  The  function  of 
aristocracy,  forsooth !  Genius  has  starved  in  aris 
tocratic  streets  and  fools  have  flouted  wisdom  in 
aristocratic  drawing-rooms,  how  often  or  how  sel 
dom,  answer  that !  Aristocratic  monopoly  of  any 
thing,  of  a  true  refinement  even!  Why,  the  dis 
tinguishing  quality  of  aristocracy,  its  superiority, 
indeed,  lies  in  its  ability  to  pick  out  the  main 
chance  and  its  ruthlessness  in  sacrificing  all  else  to 
securing  its  practical  prosperity.  It  knows  best 
how  to  perpetuate  its  privilege  in  the  easiest  man 
ner.  Marriage  is  its  method.  Nowadays,  for  in 
stance,  it's  keen  after  American  heiresses." 

"  Oh,  Christopher,  Christopher,"  Mrs.  Corlis 
had  cried,  somewhat  disturbed,  but  not  at  all  dis 
pleased,  "  you  are  perfectly  incorrigible." 


99 


THE  SCHEME 

RUGGLES  was  telling  Gard  how  he  had  tried 
to  interview  J.  J.  J.  and  had  instead  seen 
Mrs.  Corlis,  who  had  invited  him  to  lunch 
eon. 

"  Of  course  you  went,"  said  Gard. 

"  Yes.    I  have  just  come  from  there." 

"  Why,  Chris,  you  never  mentioned  it  to  me  be 
fore,  about  your  knowing  Mrs.  Corlis  so  well, 
years  ago." 

"  I  didn't  think  to,  Gard.  Besides,  I  didn't 
suppose  she'd  remember  it." 

"  Just  like  you,"  said  Gard,  drily. 

The  two,  leaving  the  office,  went  out  to  dinner 
together.  They  sought  a  little  German  restaur 
ant,  where  the  beer  was  good  and  the  music  pass 
able. 

"  It  is  strange,"  mused  Ruggles,  aloud,  as  they 
sipped  their  little  cups  of  coffee  after  dinner,  "  it  is 
strange  how  the  very  system  one  knows  is  rotten 
through  and  through  fosters  the  amenities  of  life. 
I  know  leisure  is  vicious  and  cowardly,  and  that 
rich  women  are  parasites,  but — 

"  But  what,  dreamer?  "  asked  Gard  sharply. 

IOO 


The   Mills   of  Man 

"  Oh,  nothing,  except  that  it  does  one  good  to 
come  in  contact  with  a  cultivated  woman  like  Mrs. 
Corlis.  There  is  an  atmosphere  about  her  that  all 
the  laborious  virtue  and  humble  heroism  never  can 
create;  an  air  of  refinement,  distinction,  what  shall 
I  call  it?  But  it  tones  one  up;  it  satisfies  and 
soothes  at  the  same  time  that  it  stimulates.  It  has 
an  effect  like  beauty  or  like  music.  And,  after  the 
brutality  of  these  streets  and  of  the  ill-bred  people 
one  pushes  against  every  day — well,  it's  heavenly, 
that's  what  it  is." 

Card  received  this  confession  with  a  bitter 
smile.  Not  all  her  endeavors,  devotions,  sacrifices, 
she  knew  in  her  soul,  could  vie  with  the  sweetness 
of  that  woman's  ladyhood. 

'  There's  exactly  where  you  Socialists  all  tum 
ble  down,"  she  cried,  unconsciously  upbraiding 
him.  "  In  your  hearts  what  you  worship  is  the 
lady  of  aristocracy,  and  you  kick  because  you  have 
to  put  up  with  a  daughter  of  the  people. — Come, 
let's  get  out  of  here;  I'm  sick  of  sitting  still  and 
seeing  people  eat." 

They  quarreled  in  the  street  on  their  way  back 
to  "  The  Obelisk,"  where  Card  said  she  had  some 
extra  work  to  do.  That  is,  she  quarreled  and 
Chris  acquiesced. 

"What  have  I  done,  Card?"  he  entreated,  in 
his  nai've  ignorance. 

"  Done?  Nothing,  you  booby,"  she  retorted. 
101 


The   Mills   of  Man 

"  You  are  not  angry — because — I  enjoyed  Mrs. 
Corlis?"  he  asked,  realizing  the  fact  in  his  slow 
way. 

"  No,"  said  Card,  turning  her  shoulder  toward 
him. 

"  Come,  tell  me  what  is  the  matter,  Card,"  he 
said,  making  a  final  appeal  as  they  came  to  the  en 
trance  of  "The  Obelisk." 

"  Can't  you  see?  "  snapped  Card.  "  I'm  jeal 
ous,  that's  what  I  am." 

She  declared  it  fiercely  and  then  laughed.  The 
storm-door  shut  in  Ruggles'  face. 

He  stood  alone  on  the  sidewalk,  his  mouth  wide 
open  in  astonishment. 

Card,  in  her  office,  worked  at  a  typewriter  that 
whole  evening.  She  had  started  life  as  a  stenogra 
pher,  and  it  was  at  McBride's  request  that  she  was 
striking  off  the  copies  herself  instead  of  intrusting 
them  to  one  of  the  girls  she  employed.  The  Boss 
had  called  Card  to  the  door  of  the  private  office 
that  very  noon  and  had  given  her  the  papers,  say 
ing  he  wouldn't  trust  them  in  any  other  hands  but 
her  own. 

An  hour  later  McBride  summoned  her.  She 
found  Mr.  Corlis  just  leaving  by  the  private  door. 
The  Boss  sat  in  one  of  the  chairs  at  the  directors' 
table,  his  paunch  thrown  out,  a  broad  smile  illumi 
nating  his  great  countenance. 

102 


The  Mills  of  Man 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  it,  Card?  I  guess 
you  know  enough  to  think."  He  looked  up. 

"  Big  thing,"  she  answered.  "  Of  course  you 
two  highwaymen  mean  to  go  through  every  pocket 
the  blessed  public  has  this  time." 

McBride  roared. 

'  You  hit  out  straight  from  the  shoulder,  you 
do,  Card.  A  feller  knows  where  to  find  you  on 
the  spot;  you  don't  have  to  be  fixed  beforehand, 
you  don't.  Now  Corlis,  in  here,  was  leary  about 
trustin'  you  with  them  papers,  but  I  up  and  told 
him  you  knew  all  my  affairs  from  the  inside.  That 
shut  him  up,  and  he  said  he  used  to  know  you  ten 
years  ago  when  you  was  in  his  office." 

The  Boss  looked  at  her  interrogatingly. 

"  Yes,"  said  Card,  flushing  a  little,  "  the  first 
position  I  ever  got  was  in  the  Traction  offices.  I 
was  just  eighteen  when  I  started  in." 

"  So  that's  where  you  picked  up  your  feelin' 
about  Corlis.  I  can  get  a  rise  out  of  you  every 
time  by  just  mentionin'  his  name." 

"  He  is  a  ruffian  and  a  snob  at  heart,"  flashed 
Card,  "  for  all  his  elegance  and  his  condescension. 
I  tell  you,  Mike  McBride,  you'll  be  sorry  yet  for 
the  day  you  went  into  this  deal  with  him." 

The  Boss  looked  surprised;  then  he  shook  his 
head,  got  up,  put  on  his  overcoat,  and  walked  to 
the  private  door.  With  his  hand  on  the  knob,  he 
said, 

103 


The   Mills  of  Man 

"  But  his  wife — she's  different,  Gard." 

"  I'm  tired  of  hearing  about  the  peerless  Mrs. 
Corlis,"  replied  Gard. 

Alone  in  the  office  now,  high  up  in  "The  Obe 
lisk,"  she  rattled  the  typewriter.  The  details  of 
the  whole  scheme  had  been  put  into  her  possession. 
What,  for  one  thing,  she  copied,  were  the  figures' 
representing  the  values  of  the  plants  and  the  earn 
ings  of  every  traction  company,  whether  surface  or 
elevated,  of  every  electric  power,  and  gas  and 
electric  light  company,  and  of  every  steam  or  elec 
tric  heating  company  within  the  limits  of  Chicago. 
She  copied  estimates,  also,  of  what  the  earnings 
severally  and  in  total  could  be  made,  were  all  these 
plants  grouped  under  one  management  with  the 
economies  of  centralized  administration  rendered 
possible.  Some  computation,  furthermore,  \vas  at 
tempted  concerning  the  possible  earnings  of  new 
electric  plants,  new  traction  lines  and  the  like, 
while  recommendations  appeared  for  extensions 
and  improvements  in  the  existing  systems  and  es 
tablishments. 

In  a  word,  the  scheme  proposed  an  absorption 
of  all  franchises  and  privileges  that  had  been 
granted  or  should  be  granted  to  supply  the  needs 
of  the  people  of  Chicago  in  the  way  of  transporta 
tion,  lighting,  heating  and  power.  It  was  a  fran 
chise  trust,  a  monopoly  upon  all  the  grants  of  the 

104 


The   Mills   of  Man 

municipality,  present  and  future.  The  bulked 
profits  could  be  made  enormous. 

Card's  trained  business  mind  grasped  the  full 
nature  of  the  undertaking.  She  understood  the 
steps  that  must  be  taken  in  order  to  render  the 
project  a  success.  She  realized  how  much  capital 
would  be  required  to  finance  the  matter;  how  not 
only  the  permission  of  the  city  government  must 
be  obtained,  but  probably  enabling  legislation  at 
Springfield  must  be  secured.  She  recollected  that 
McBride  had  mentioned  J.  J.  Jarrett's  name  in 
connection  with  the  scheme,  so  the  money  was  al 
ready  found.  McBride  himself  owned  the  Mayor, 
and  the  Boss  and  Corlis  between  them  could  influ 
ence  the  Common  Council;  thus  the  municipality 
could  be  relied  upon.  Springfield  remained.  A 
legislature  might  always  be  bought,  perhaps;  but 
generally  a  governor  to  be  owned  must  be  elected. 
The  convention  of  the  majority  party  in  Illinois 
met  next  week  to  nominate  a  governor.  That  the 
new  political  combination  would  attempt  to  con 
trol  that  convention,  Card  foresaw. 

She  recognized  the  mind  of  Walter  H.  D.  Cor 
lis  in  all  this.  As  she  leaned  above  the  typewriter, 
having  finished  the  last  page  of  copy,  she  pene 
trated,  she  felt,  to  the  depths  of  his  policy,  and, 
much  as  in  her  soul  she  scorned  the  man,  Card's 
mind  admired  him — his  sweep  of  vision,  his  grasp 
of  men  and  things,  his  sheer  audacity,  headlong 

105 


The   Mills   of  Man 

ambition,  forehanded  provision,  implacable  pur 
pose.  After  all,  to  do  him  justice,  the  man  if  not 
great  was  large  in  his  way,  that  Card  admitted. 

Corlis  had  come  to  Chicago  from  the  East  ten 
years  ago,  sent  out  by  J.  J.  Jarrett  to  manage  his 
interests  in  Chicago  traction  and  lighting  com 
panies.  Within  a  year  he  had  been  recognized  as 
the  practical  manager  of  those  corporations.  In 
five  years'  time  he  had  changed  the  whole  com 
plexion  of  the  street  railway  problem  in  Chicago. 
He  practiced  conciliation  on  every  side;  he  grant 
ed  favors  to  the  politicians  of  both  parties;  he 
agreed  with  the  pure  aspirations  of  the  reformers 
who  were  gentlemen  and  rendered  himself  person 
ally  popular  with  the  reformers  who  were  cranks. 
He  flattered  editors  and  did  services  for  the  re 
porters.  He  consulted  public  opinion  and  made 
proclamation  of  his  ambition  to  give  the  city  the 
best  possible  service  for  the  lowest  fare. 

Yet  the  man  who  had  thus  captured  the  imagi 
nation  and  the  goodwill  of  the  fiercest  democracy 
in  the  country,  was  physically  and  temperament 
ally  an  aristocrat  and  proud  of  the  quality.  He 
had  the  manners  of  the  East,  the  reserve  and  dig 
nity,  except  when  he  unbent  to  what  privately  he 
called  the  mob.  He  possessed  as  much  as  any 
man  that  physical  distinction  which  rendered  him 
a  favorite  of  women  and  which  excited  the  enmity 
of  men. 

1 06 


The   Mills   of  Man 

He  escaped  criticism  from  every  side.  The 
public  liked  his  patronage;  the  business  men,  his 
ability;  the  politicians  found  it  to  their  interests 
to  "stand  in"  with  him;  reformers  felt  he  was 
too  much  the  gentleman  for  them  to  suspect  him. 
Society  adored  him,  younger  men  imitated  him, 
and  even  staid  citizens  approved  of  him.  In  what, 
indeed,  was  he  vulnerable?  Who  dare  decry 
him?  what  sneer  deride  him?  what  calumny 
harm?  He  wras  proof  at  every  point.  The  Jarrett 
millions  supported  him;  the  prestige  of  his  wife 
enhanced  his  own;  the  reputation  of  Senator 
Dawes  found  in  him  its  heir. 

Besides,  Corlis  had  been  building  up  political 
power  of  his  own.  Through  her  intimacy  with 
Mrs.  McBride,  Card  had  an  inkling  of  the  un- 
avowed  relations  between  Mr.  Corlis  and  the  Ma 
chine.  In  fact,  she  judged  that  a  secret  hard  and 
fast  alliance  existed,  and  she  suspected  about  what 
the  conditions  had  been  for  years. 

One  of  McBride's  men  could  always  get  a  job 
on  the  Corlis  railways.  Such  aid  had  proved  of 
decisive  value  to  McBride  in  maintaining  his  ma 
chine.  When  the  accidents  of  war  deprived  the 
Boss  of  patronage  for  a  season,  he  could  fall  back 
upon  Corlis  to  furnish  jobs  with  which  to  keep  his 
men  in  line. 

McBride  had  risen  steadily  in  power  during  the 
last  ten  years,  even  as  Corlis  had  wraxed  in  repute 

107 


The   Mills   of  Man 

and  power.  Few  knew  enough  to  associate  their 
successes.  Respectability  had  scouted  the  intima 
tion  as  base  slander.  McBride  had  gained  indis 
putable  control  of  his  party  within  the  last  five 
years;  lieutenants  of  his  had  gradually  become 
masters  in  their  wards.  Three  years  ago  McBride, 
for  the  first  time,  succeeded  in  completely  captur 
ing  "  The  City  Hall."  Timothy  Murphy,  the 
present  Mayor,  was  McBride's  man. 

The  Republican  Machine  which  McBride  had 
built  up,  surpassed  everything  Chicago  had  ever 
known.  He  had  had  the  secret  benefit  of  Corlis' 
advice  at  every  step,  and  his  model  had  avowedly 
been  New  York's  Tammany  Hall.  Once  en 
trenched  in  office,  the  organization  had  now  so  se 
curely  wound  its  tentacles  around  the  roots  of 
power,  that  nothing  short  of  a  revolution  at  the 
ballot-box  could  shake  it  from  control. 

Card  reviewed  these  things  in  her  mind.  She 
closed  the  typewriter,  and  gathering  up  what  she 
had  copied,  locked  it  in  a  secure  drawer  in  the  safe. 

Then  she  stood  stock-still  in  the  middle  of  the 
room,  thinking.  She  was  twenty-eight.  Her  clear 
face,  despite  its  beautiful  austerity,  was  young  still. 
Yet  she  knew  better  how  this  world  is  made  than 
did  many  experienced  men  of  fifty.  The  knowl 
edge  saddened  her  at  times,  at  times  made  her 
sick.  But  she  would  not  have  been  ignorant.  She 
felt  herself  the  stronger  for  the  knowledge;  she 

108 


The   Mills   of  Man 

had  a  perfect  horror  of  being  fooled.  Besides, 
after  all,  she  found  it  interesting,  wonderfully  in 
teresting,  this  tragi-comedy.  For  Card  possessed 
a  magnificent  zest  for  life,  which  was  stronger 
than  her  distastes  or  her  disgusts  or  even  her  con 
science. 


109 


XII 

CARD  SPEAKS  OUT 

CHRIS  RUGGLES  found  Card  at  her  desk. 
The  desk  was  strewn  with  papers  in  confu 
sion,  though  somehow  Gard  was  able  to  ex 
tract  from  the  chaos  whatever  in  particular  she 
wanted. 

Upon  a  mass  of  papers  lay  a  paper  book,  open, 
and  over  this  Gard  was  laughing  to  herself,  silent 
ly,  in  her  mirth  bowing  her  head  up  and  down. 
Her  lips,  even  as  she  laughed,  were  screwed  half 
painfully,  as  if,  though  she  laughed,  the  jest  of 
what  she  read  hurt  her.  Perpetual  laugher  as  she 
was,  she  had  far  rather  been  reverent. 

She  wheeled  her  revolving  chair  as  she  heard 
Chris  enter. 

'  Well,"  she  demanded  in  a  hard  voice,  with  a 
hard  look  in  her  eyes.  "  Well,"  she  repeated, 
"what  are  you  doing  here?  You  needn't  come 
here."  She  studied  his  sheepishness.  '  You  must 
be  afraid,  you've  stayed  away  so  long — since 
Wednesday  and  this  is  Saturday." 
Then  she  laughed. 

"  I  suppose  you  thought  you'd  be  snapped  up. 
But  really  you're  quite  safe." 

no 


The   Mills   of  Man 

Chris  hung  his  head  a  little  lower  and  experi 
enced  much  shame. 

She  fell  to  measuring  him  with  a  shrewd  eye. 

"  Well,"  she  snapped  finally,  "  it's  true;  there's 
no  sense  in  denying  it,  since  you  know  it  too.  I 
was  jealous,  just  like  other  women — the  same  as 
your  aristocrat  has  been  of  her  husband  often 
enough.  Yes,  a  plain  case  of  jealousy;  your  mag 
nificent  friend  had  you  too  much  hypnotized  to 
suit  me.  But  I'm  over  it,  I  guess." 

The  beautiful  candor  came  back  gradually  into 
her  face.  She  laughed. 

4  I've  got  the  devil  down;  he's  squirming  now 
under  my  foot,  and  I'm  your  friend  again,  Chris, 
you  needn't  worry." 

He  sat  down  in  his  accustomed  place,  upon  the 
leather  lounge  against  the  wall.  He  wished  to 
evince  his  appreciation  of  her  frank  good-fellow 
ship,  but  he  did  not  know  what  to  say,  unready 
truth-teller  that  he  was.  He  continued  to  look  his 
gratitude,  however,  and  to  evade  the  issue  irrele 
vantly  inquired, 

"  What  have  you  there  that  makes  you  laugh?  " 

"  A  funny  book — Artemus  Ward,  in  fact.  It's 
the  only  kind  I  read;  the  same  taste  as  Abraham 
Lincoln,  I'll  have  you  note.  Your  finical  culture's 
not  shocked,  Mr.  Bluestocking,  I  hope.  I  have  to 
get  my  fun  where  I  can  understand  it,  you  see. 
You  didn't  expect  to  find  me  mooning  over  Brown- 

iii 


The  Mills  of  Man 

ing,  did  you?  "  she  ended,  with  a  burst  of  laugh 
ter. 

"  I  haven't  any  fault  to  find,  I'm  sure,"  he  an 
swered  in  all  seriousness.  "  You  want  to  be  your 
self." 

"What  else  is  there  for  me  to  do?"  she  de 
manded.  "  I've  got  to  keep  sane  in  this  crush, 
haven't  I?  I  have  to  laugh,  even  if  there's  not 
much  to  laugh  at  and  I'd  rather  not.  You  either 
laugh  at  frauds  and  fools,  or  else  your  soul's  em 
bittered  by  their  poison,  I've  noticed.  Why,  when 
I've  had  an  interview  with  some  oily  schemer  and 
seen  square  through  his  rotten  honesty,  before  I 
take  up  bonds  and  propositions  once  again,  I  just 
pull  out  old  Artemus  for  a  half  minute  and  have  a 
smile.  He's  my  bracer." 

"  Caesar  compiled  a  book  of  jokes,"  said  Chris. 
The  pedantic  precedent  seemed  to  satisfy  him. 
"  So  I  guess  a  Napoleon  of  finance  like  you  can 
read  a  book  of  them." 

She  smiled,  but  between  her  smiles  she  studied 
Ruggles  narrowly  again.  She  saw  that  he  strove 
to  be  natural  and  to  put  himself  on  the  old  terms 
with  her  once  more.  His  failure  exasperated  her, 
and  she  expressed  herself  bluntly,  as  was  her  way. 
Card  had  a  predilection  for  heroic  remedies. 

She  pulled  Chris  up  with  a  jerk. 

"  I  want  to  know  why  you've  not  been  in  here 
for  three  days,  or  rather  I  want  to  tell  you  I  know 

112 


The  Mills  of  Man 

why,  and  I'll  tell  you  why — speak  right  out  in 
meeting." 

"  I  have  been  so  fearfully  busy,"  he  said,  mak 
ing  a  lame  excuse.  "  Politics,  the  last  few  weeks, 
have  kept  me  fairly  jumping  on  the  paper." 

She  disposed  of  that  plea. 

"  Stuff !  Go  tell  that  to  some  one  who'll  believe 
it.  You  didn't  want  to  come,  and  you  didn't  want 
to  because  you  were  afraid." 

He  tried  humorous  diversion. 

"  Oh,  now,  you  are  pretty  fierce,  but  you're  not 
so  awfully  formidable  as  that." 

"  It's  not  my  fierceness  you're  afraid  of,  but  my 
softness,"  she  pressed  relentlessly. 

He  flushed  and  strove  confusedly  to  protest. 

"  Bother, — hear  me !  "  she  cried.  '  You  know 
it  and  I  do  too.  I  confess  it,  don't  I;  I'm  not 
ashamed  of  it.  But  see  here,  Chris  Ruggles,  it 
needn't  make  any  difference  between  us  at  all. 
You  can  stay  my  friend,  can't  you,  and  whatever 
else  there  is,  is,  in  fact,  none  of  your  business. 
Just  disregard  it,  please." 

Ruggles,  man-like,  felt  submerged.  Compas 
sion,  involuntary  admiration  of  her  courage,  a 
sense  of  littleness  in  himself,  all  stirred  in  him. 
Bunglingly  he  attempted  to  express  what  he  ex 
perienced. 

"  But  you,   such  a  noble  woman  as  you   are, 

"3 


The   Mills   of  Man 

Card,  you  wouldn't  think  of  throwing  yourself 
away  on  such  a  misfit  as  I  am." 

"  Stop  disparaging  yourself,  Chris,  or  I  shall 
resent  it,"  she  cried,  flaming  up.  "  Besides,"  she 
fluttered  for  an  instant,  "  I  haven't  said  a  word 
about  marrying  you,  have  I  ?  So  shut  up,  will 
you!  Or  ask  me,  if  you  want  to,  and  see  how 
quickly  I'll  refuse." 

"  Oh,"  murmured  Ruggles,  overcome  with  con 
fusion,  "  I  beg  your  pardon  sincerely,  Card."  He 
bent  his  burning  face. 

"  Pshaw,  Chris,  that's  all  right.  All  I've  want 
ed  to  say,  I've  said,  and  I  feel  better,  too.  Now, 
I  want  you  to  come  in  here  every  day  the  same  as 
you  have  been  doing  the  last  two  years.  I  miss 
you,  if  you  don't.  And  besides,  I'm  just  the  sort 
of  friend  you  need;  you  can't  get  along  without 
me,  you  know.  What  you  require  is  a  manager, 
Chris,  or  a  mother,  and  I  aspire  to  be  a  little  of 
them  both,  I  guess."  And  Card  laughed  silently, 
shaking  in  her  chair.  The  truth,  as  she  saw  it,  was 
most  always  humorous,  despite  all  that  she  could 
do. 

Then  she  sat  looking  at  him. 

His  head  was  down  between  his  hands.  He 
knew  that  what  she  said  was  the  truth.  He  was 
dumbly  grateful  for  her  friendship,  its  unselfish 
ness,  its  reliability;  it  was  a  bank  which  would 
cash  all  his  drafts  unhesitatingly.  In  fact,  she 

114 


The   Mills   of  Man 

gave  all  and  asked  nothing.  And  realizing  her 
disinterestedness,  he  felt  ashamed  of  his  honorable 
scruples  and  the  prudence  which  had  kept  him 
away  since  her  jealous  flash  over  Mrs.  Corlis  had 
revealed  what  he  had  been  too  stupid  or  too  hum 
ble  to  divine  before. 

She  seemed  to  read  his  mind. 

'  Yes,  believe  me,  you  will  not  hurt  me  by  com 
ing  as  often  as  ever.  I  don't  want  you  to  stay 
away;  you  are  such  a  comfort,  such  a  joy.  Now 
take  Artemus  here  and  read  awhile.  I've  just  got 
to  finish  up  something  I  must  do." 

She  wheeled  the  chair  to  face  the  desk.  Her 
long  fingers  searched  skillfully  in  the  muddle  of 
papers  and  drew  forth  those  which  she  desired. 
She  shifted  them,  then  became  absorbed  in  what 
they  contained.  The  softness  vanished  from  her 
countenance,  the  aquilinities  all  standing  out  keen 
as  blades. 

Chris  held  the  book  and  looked  at  her  across 
its  top.  If  he  had  not  had  proof  of  her  magna 
nimity  and  been  the  actual  beneficiary  of  it,  he 
would  have  believed  the  outline  of  her  profile,  so 
firm,  so  clear,  indicative  of  cold  will  and  piercing 
mind  alone. 

He  sat  and  marveled  as  she  worked.  She  had 
the  energy  of  a  steam  engine  and  yet  the  machin 
ery  glided  as  if  its  joints  were  silk.  Her  brain 
stabbed  through  to  the  core  of  business  proposi- 


The   Mills   of  Man 

tions  like  a  knife  to  the  heart  of  its  victim.  He 
had  seen  her  deal  with  dubious  men  and  handle 
difficult  affairs.  She  was  never  cheated,  never  an 
gered,  never  for  an  instant  at  a  loss.  And,  al 
though  she  understood  men  through  and  through, 
perceived  their  wiles  and  lies  and  schemes,  never 
was  induced  to  ascribe  better  motives  to  them  than 
those  which  really  animated  them,  yet  she  was 
able  to  judge  them  all  in  the  light  of  a  wide  and 
good-humored  tolerance,  getting  along  equally 
well  with  a  greedy  Jew,  an  unscrupulous  Yankee, 
a  coarse  vulgarian,  or  a  pompous  respectability, 
and  selecting  the  good  point  of  each. 

She  handled  many  sorts  of  propositions,  bought 
and  sold,  promoted,  organized.  It  might  be  a  new 
patent,  a  gold,  copper,  zinc  or  silver  mine,  timber- 
land,  real  estate,  industrials,  railway  bonds.  She 
passed  from  one  subject  to  another  with  facility, 
and  grasped  each  problem  with  the  same  keen 
power  of  perception. 

Chris  considered  these  things  that  defined  the 
differences  between  them.  He  remembered  how  he 
had  met  her  three  years  ago  and  how  she  had  risen 
since  then.  She  had  told  him  that  she  had  made 
$11,244  last  Year  and  that  this  year  she  was  sure 
of  clearing  $20,000  at  least.  McBride,  because 
she  was  the  friend  of  his  young  wife,  had  helped 
"  turn  things  her  way  "  in  the  first  place.  Her 

116 


The   Mills   of  Man 

own  ability,  industry,  and  integrity  had  done  the 
rest. 

Ruggles  admired  her,  if  for  nothing  more,  for 
her  power  to  cope  with  the  world.  Even  what 
some  might  call  her  faults  he  ascribed  to  her  vir 
tues.  Her  candor  was  a  part  of  her  great  cour 
age;  it  was  not  lack  of  modesty  or  of  womanly 
feeling,  he  knew.  She  feared  nothing  in  the  uni 
verse,  and  her  humor,  with  her  courage,  dis 
counted  the  effects  of  the  frowns  and  penalties  of 
the  world.  She  was  equal  to  any  man  and  his  su 
perior,  commonly,  on  his  own  ground. 

This  fine  independence,  this  ability  to  take  care 
of  herself,  this  aptness  for  fence  and  attack,  in 
stead  of  divesting  her  of  charm  in  Ruggles'  eyes, 
magnified  her  in  his  mind.  Her  prototype  he 
must  go  far  back  to  find ;  he  found  her  in  the  free 
Spartan  women,  or,  ideally,  in  the  goddess  Arte 
mis.  So  America,  in  her  vast  freedom,  reverts  to 
Hellas  here  and  there. 


XIII 

A   SERIOUS  YOUTH 

CHRISTOPHER  RUGGLES  was  the  son  of 
a  man  who  for  twenty  years  had  been  the 
village  blacksmith  in  Senator  Dawes'  town. 
The  father  was  a  sturdy,  honest,  right-minded 
man,  who  read  between  the  hours  of  work  at  his 
forge  and  who  conceived  intellectual  ambitions  for 
his  son.  It  was  the  story  so  common  to  democ 
racy. 

The  boy  obtained  an  education,  helped  partly 
by  his  father,  partly  supported  by  his  own  efforts 
and  the  influence  of  Senator  Dawes.  He  had  a 
studious  disposition  and  a  pondering  mind.  He 
stood  well  up  near  the  head  of  his  classes  all 
through  college ;  he  won  a  fellowship  upon  grad 
uation  and  continued  his  studies  two  years  longer. 

Moral  integrity  may  be  rare ;  intellectual  integ 
rity  is  more  rare.  Ruggles  by  the  constitution  of 
his  mind  was  perforce  a  seeker  of  truth,  a  speaker 
of  truth,  and  one  who  thought  truthfully.  This 
quality  was  developed  and  sustained  by  his  rigor 
ous  training  in  science  and  philosophy,  for  both  of 
which  he  had  much  aptitude.  What  he  lacked  in 
his  mental  make-up  was  humor,  which  is  the  bal- 

118 


The  Mills  of  Man 

ance  wheel  of  the  judgment,  and  a  sense  for  hu 
man  nature,  a  thing  separable  from  logic. 

Perhaps  he  should  have  become  a  professor  in 
a  college,  or  have  secured  a  place  in  which  he 
could  have  pursued  pure  science  for  its  own  sake. 
Owing  to  the  debts  he  had  incurred  in  paying  for 
his  education,  young  Ruggles  could  not  afford  to 
accept  the  instructorship  in  his  own  college  which 
was  offered  him.  Instead  he  took  the  principal- 
ship  of  a  public  school  in  a  small  Ohio  city.  The 
salary  enabled  him  to  pay  his  debts  the  first  year 
and  to  live  besides. 

He  did  not  succeed  as  principal.  He  was  pa 
tient,  kind,  thorough  in  his  instruction,  just  in  his 
administration  and  to  the  teachers  under  him. 
But  such  virtues  were  not  enough.  He  did  not 
understand  that  to  perform  one's  duty  is  by  no 
means  all  the  game;  he  had  not  learned  that  to 
treat  men  with  justice  and  consideration  in  no  wise 
contents  them.  He  had  absolutely  no  notion  of 
the  art  of  small  flattery,  of  deft  deference,  of  the 
manipulation  of  men  through  their  vanities.  He 
was  natively  so  simple  that  he  supposed  he  could 
best  fulfill  his  function  by  telling  the  truth  and 
trusting  each  man  as  a  man. 

Naturally  he  failed  to  please  either  the  teachers 
or  the  members  of  the  Board  of  Education.  He 
ignored  the  politics  of  his  place;  he  reported  a 
teacher  as  a  good  or  a  bad  teacher,  never  consider- 

119 


The  Mills  of  Man 

ing  how  much  of  a  "  pull  "  the  said  teacher  might 
have.  Even  his  gravity  and  dutifulness  offended; 
he  could  not  always  prove  obliging,  while  he  never 
could  be  charged  with  being  "  a  good  fellow."  It 
soon  came  to  be  understood  among  the  members 
of  the  Board  that  the  principal  might  be  "  all 
right,"  but  that  he  was  "  unpractical."  That  ver 
dict  pronounced  upon  a  man  is,  in  three-fourths 
of  America,  as  good  as  a  death  sentence. 

He  lost  his  position  at  the  end  of  the  year.  In 
the  emergency  he  attempted  to  obtain  private  pu 
pils.  There  were  some  men  in  the  town  who  ap 
preciated  the  young  man's  thorough  scholarship 
and  they  helped  him.  By  the  commencement  of 
the  new  school  year,  he  had  secured  a  number  of 
private  pupils  and  the  promise  of  others.  There 
was  a  demand  for  a  teacher  to  fit  boys  for  college ; 
if  he  could  succeed  with  them,  a  living  would  be 
assured. 

He  was  not  an  inferior  teacher,  though  perhaps 
he  knew  too  much.  He  succeeded  moderately  the 
first  year.  The  second  he  did  not  obtain  quite  so 
many  pupils.  By  the  third  he  had  hardly  any,  and 
at  the  close  of  that  year  it  was  evident  to  himself 
and  to  all  that  he  had  failed.  It  was  his  want  of 
practicality. 

In  the  first  place  he  ignored  his  enemies  or  rath 
er  his  detractors.  He  had  no  idea  that  they  were 
busy  at  his  reputation,  he  was  so  intently  fixed 

1 20 


The  Mills  of  Man 

upon  his  own  business.  Then,  if  he  got  along  tol 
erably  well  with  the  boys,  he  failed  to  please  their 
parents.  He  felt  that  he  entered  a  house  to  teach, 
not  to  make  a  study  of  the  prejudices  and  tempera 
ment  of  the  family. 

That  first  and  last  of  the  social  graces,  flattery, 
he  did  not  understand  in  any  of  its  phases  from 
gross  to  delicate.  In  truth,  he  did  not  perceive 
that  it  was  tacitly  demanded  of  him  to  render  con 
stant  homage  to  every  exalted  shopkeeper  and 
manufacturer  of  the  town.  He  did  not  render 
tribute  to  human  self-love,  precisely  for  the  reason 
that  he  entertained  too  much  respect  for  human 
nature  to  suppose  it  desired  obsequiousness  and 
falsehood.  In  fine,  to  Ruggles  the  whole  constitu 
tion  of  "  Respectability  "  was  a  sealed  volume;  he 
fatuously  assumed  that  men  wanted  truth  and  that 
truth  was  the  cement  of  society. 

There  came  a  time  when  he  had  no  money  in 
that  town,  when  the  soles  of  his  shoes  were  worn 
through  and  his  clothes  were  "  seedy."  He  made 
heroic  efforts  to  find  pupils;  he  even  haunted  peo 
ple's  doors.  But  the  fiat  of  Respectability  had 
gone  out  against  him;  he  was  said  to  hold  too 
loose  views  upon  religion  to  render  him  a  safe  in 
structor  for  growing  boys.  Besides,  it  was  under 
stood  that  at  heart  he  was  a  Socialist  or  some 
thing,  and  that  he  did  not  show  his  superiors,  men 
of  recognized  position,  the  respect  due  from  so 

121 


The   Mills   of  Man 

young  a  man.  Blunt  men  characterized  him  as  a 
"  fool." 

Even  before  the  general  condemnation  had 
gone  forth,  Ruggles  had  suffered.  He  was  the 
victim,  as  all  men  are,  of  his  temperament  and  in 
heritance,  of  his  education  and  its  limitations. 
First  a  blacksmith,  then  a  scholar,  his  four  years  in 
Ohio  had  shown  him  the  attractiveness  of  the 
merely  physical  and  social  life.  He  perceived  this 
through  a  window,  as  it  were :  he  saw  it  in  the 
gaiety  of  a  small  city  whose  gaiety  cannot  but  be 
visible  to  all;  he  discovered  it  in  the  houses  of  the 
rich  men  whose  sons  he  tutored. 

Yet  he  was  irretrievably  shut  out  from  that  de 
light.  There  were  clerks  who  had  risen  in 
that  town  even  to  the  height  of  marrying  heiresses. 
Manners  were  not  requisite,  if  one  had  audacity 
and  jollity  instead.  Family  was  much  talked 
about,  yet  want  of  it  could  be  forgiven  some  men. 
Fellows  he  had  seen  who  by  dint  of  dressing  well 
and  by  a  modicum  of  savoir  faire  had  scaled  the 
social  rampart,  become  members  of  society  and  fa 
vorites  of  women.  But  he  possessed  education,  in 
tellect,  natural  delicacy.  Why  did  these  qualities 
avail  him  not  at  all? 

With  characteristic  candor  he  formulated  the 
reason  to  himself;  his  feet  were  too  big,  his 
body  too  awkward,  his  speech  too  serious  and 
too  slow.  He  would  have  parted  cheerfully  with 

122 


The   Mills   of  Man 

a  block  of  his  mental  attainments,  if  that  would 
have  sufficed  to  render  him  a  graceful  dancer.  He 
was  even  on  the  verge  of  despising  mind  and  ad 
miring  flippancy;  he  confided  to  a  friend  that  he 
wished  he  might  possess  some  lightness  of  tem 
perament  instead  of  so  much  blacksmith  virtue 
and  scientific  precision. 

There  came  a  night  when  a  loaded  pistol  lay 
upon  his  table  and  he  meant  to  use  it  before  dawn. 
Without,  a  golden  moon  rode  in  a  silvered  vault, 
while  the  breath  of  spring  puffed  the  listless  cur 
tains  at  the  open  windows.  Standing  looking  at 
the  night,  the  conviction  came  to  Ruggles  concern 
ing  nature  which  had  come  to  him  concerning  hu 
man  intercourse,  that  both  might  be  very  beautiful 
were  he  only  fitted  to  respond  to  their  demands. 

He  leaned  far  out  of  the  window.  The  silent 
streets  were  paved  like  magic  thoroughfares,  the 
new-leafed  trees  rustled  with  faint  joys,  and  over 
head  the  arch  of  heaven  deepened  vast  and  filmy. 

"  Ah,"  he  thought,  "  I  am  not  in  all  ways  out 
of  tune;  I  can  chime  with  this  moonlight's  ether 
eal  melody.  This  also  is  a  part  of  life,  as  much  as 
that  in  which  I  have  no  part;  and  therefore,  I 
may  stay."  Into  his  mind  there  floated  those  di- 
vinest  of  all  words, 

"Magic  casements,  opening  on  the  foam  of  perilous  seas 
and  fairy  lands  forlorn." 

I23 


The   Mills   of  Man 

As  the  fragrance  of  a  precious  wine  may  do, 
they  heartened  him. 

Why  should  he  succumb?  He  would  adven 
ture  !  The  world,  the  various  world,  lay  spread 
before  him.  Putty  cannot  be  galvanized;  neither 
can  provincial  respectability  be  civilized.  But  he 
would  not  remain  to  die  its  victim ;  he  would  fare 
forth. 

Before  dawn  he  had  set  out.  He  left  a  note  for 
his  landlady,  promising  to  send  back  the  twelve 
dollars  he  still  owed  her,  as  soon  as  he  had  earned 
them. 

He  tramped  three  hundred  miles  northwest 
ward  across  the  Indiana  prairies.  It  took  him  the 
summer  through  to  reach  his  destination.  He 
worked  his  way.  The  contact  with  farmers,  hired 
hands,  with  tramps  and  other  men  of  the  same  va 
grant  spirit,  interested  him;  they  were  primary 
men;  they  constituted  the  front  rank  of  society  in 
the  battle  against  Nature. 

He  worked  with  his  companions  on  the  farm; 
he  walked  with  them  upon  the  highway;  he  got 
jobs  in  the  gangs  along  the  railway;  he  heaved 
sacks,  loading  wagons.  From  the  lips  of  all  he 
heard  the  name  Chicago.  It  seemed  the  Mecca  of 
all  toilers  and  all  outcasts;  its  magnitude  and  op 
portunities  enthralled  the  crude  imagination  of 
men  who  lived  by  their  hands.  It  promised  a  pro- 

124 


The   Mills   of  Man 

fusion  of  work  and  amusement,  a  multitude  of 
chances,  sights,  sensations,  experiences. 

Half  consciously,  therefore,  Ruggles  shaped  his 
course  by  the  attraction  of  that  tremendous  load 
stone. 

Thus  Chicago  beckoned  ahead  of  him,  looming 
monstrous,  ugly  and  almighty.  It, was  the  arche 
typical  industrial  city,  the  complete  representative 
of  the  modern  age,  as  Rome  had  been  of  the  an 
cient  world  and  Venice  of  the  Renaissance.  There 
was  no  past  about  it,  even  near,  no  towers,  tradi 
tions,  temples.  It  was  built  upon  the  naked 
prairie,  built  of  steel.  Possessed  of  colossal  bar 
barities,  its  glories  were  meats  and  grains  and 
metals.  It  had  invented  the  bridge  style  of  archi 
tecture,  the  stockyards  and  the  whaleback.  It 
reeked  of  industrialism;  it  was  a  gross  compound 
of  money  and  of  muscle.  Its  achievements,  bru 
talities,  energies,  candors,  democracies,  opulences, 
Justs,  like  its  products,  its  foods  and  its  steel,  were 
characteristics,  unalloyed,  of  the  age  of  to-day. 

This  dream  or  this  apprehension  of  Modernity 
it  was  that  saved  him.  Learning  and  the  atmos 
phere  of  Philistine  prosperity  had  near  made  him 
mad,  but  now  he  perceived,  vaguely,  the  magni 
tude  of  his  times;  he  became  enamored  of  the 
manifestations  of  the  pulse  of  tremendous  life. 
For  he  was  a  mind;  his  story  is  the  history  of  a 

125 


The   Mills  of  Man 

mind,  as  that  of  others  may  be  of  a  passion,  or  of 
a  conscience,  or  of  a  career.  He  suffered  the  de 
fect  of  his  idiosyncrasy;  while  he  pondered  upon 
larger  questions  and  sought  to  find  truth  diligently, 
he  missed  the  practical  moment  and  allowed  the 
concrete  chance  to  go  by. 

Thus  came  the  usual  crisis.  Upon  a  Sunday 
night  the  following  summer  in  Chicago,  Ruggles 
walked  in  State  street  with  seven  cents  in  his 
pocket  and  no  prospect  of  work  for  the  morrow. 

Week  days,  State  street  is  an  exaggerated  coun 
ty  fair.  Sunday  nights,  in  summer,  it  is  more  curi 
ous  still.  The  broad  roadway  is  vacant,  the  huge 
department  stores  are  tenantless,  while  the  show 
windows,  which  like  wide,  golden  stripes  streak 
the  lateral  walls,  present  to  slowly  moving  crowds 
panoramas  of  all  the  goods  and  treasures  their 
covetous  souls  desire.  The  motley  procession  fills 
the  sidewalks  and  individual  collisions  constantly 
occur;  for  the  populace  of  Chicago  walk  as  coun 
try  people  walk,  all  over  the  road. 

That  night  the  orators  were  holding  forth  at 
nearly  every  corner,  while  groups,  forming,  disin 
tegrating,  re-forming,  clustered  about  each.  To 
some  of  the  listeners  the  oratory  afforded  a  sort  of 
open-air  theatre;  the  most,  however,  good-natured 
and  skeptical,  were  merely  "  taking  in  "  whatever 
they  encountered  and  lounged  off,  after  a  minute, 
unpersuaded.  Balm  was  offered  for  all  humors: 

126 


The  Mills  of  Man 

at  one  corner  a  man  from  a  box  expounded  "  The 
Single  Tax";  at  the  next  a  red-hot  Socialist  de 
nounced  the  Rothschilds;  further  on  a  woman, 
who  was  the  new  incarnation  of  the  Messiah, 
prophesied;  halfway  up  another  block,  a  fat 
evangelist  with  a  trumpet  voice  sang  a  Methodist 
hymn  from  the  deck  of  a  gospel  wagon,  and  then 
unctuously  urged  the  change  of  heart  which  meant 
so  much  to  the  middle  nineteenth  century  and 
means  so  little  to  us  now. 

Ruggles  stopped  at  many  points  and,  for  want 
of  else  to  do,  listened  to  the  orators.  His  half  at 
tentive  ear  caught  presently  the  strain  of  an  old 
hymn  which  once  had  helped  console  his  father 
for  a  hard  life  in  the  smithy.  It  drew  him  to  the 
ring  of  idlers  like  himself  who  formed  about  the 
singing  lasses  of  the  Salvation  Army.  Stanza  fol 
lowed  stanza ;  to  a  dolorous  tune  the  words  in 
vited  tired  men  to  rest  in  Jesus. 

The  rank  sentimentalism  comforted  the  hope 
less  young  man  somehow;  he  fancied  it  must  be  a 
trick  of  heredity.  But  the  verses  did  solace  while 
they  lasted,  and  he  realized  what  might  be  the 
force  of  their  appeal  to  overburdened  men  upon 
the  eve  of  another  week  of  toil.  His  eyes  filled  in 
voluntarily,  for  there  was  brought  home  to  him 
with  sudden  truth  the  life-predicament  of  the  hard- 
handed  father  whom  in  his  soul  he  honored  as  a 
hero;  he  recognized  what  was  the  perennial  plight 

127 


The   Mills   of  Man 

of  the  majority  of  men,  what  constitutes  the  old, 
tedious,  sordid,  irresponsible  tragedy. 

"  Are  you  looking  to  get  converted?  "  a  wom 
an's  voice  asked  at  his  ear. 

Startled,  he  turned  and  through  the  mist  in  his 
eyes  saw  a  tall  young  woman  of  a  severe  and  noble 
beauty. 

"  Oh,  I  wish  it  were  all  as  easy  as  just  that,"  he 
answered.  Somehow  the  dialogue  seemed  natural. 

"  So  do  I,"  she  rejoined.  "  If  I  could  think  it, 
I'd  be  standing  in  the  gutter  there,  along  with 
those  girls,  instead  of  criticising  with  you  here  on 
the  curb. — But  you,"  she  gave  him  a  long  divining 
glance,  "  your  face  shows  what  you  are,  and  I 
guess  you  need  something  for  which  a  Salvation 
Army  conversion  would  be  a  mighty  thin  substi 
tute." 

A  droll  expression,  queerly  mixed  with  pity,  did 
not  so  much  diminish  the  keen  edge  of  her  shrewd 
observation  as  soften  it. 

"  You're  right,"  he  answered  candidly.  "  But 
I  am  a  man  without  friends,  so  I'm  thrown  back 
upon  spiritual  consolation." 

"  The  common  way,"  she  laughed  silently*. 
"  But  don't  be  bitter.  Come  walk  a  block  with 
me,  and  mebbe  I  can  help  you.  You  never  can 
tell." 

Thus  began  his  friendship  with  Card  Brown. 
She  helped  him,  became  what  she  termed  his 

128 


The   Mills   of  Man 

"  manager."  She  divined  his  perplexities  without 
understanding  them;  she  gauged  his  intellectual 
quandaries;  she  had  reverence  for  his  mind  and 
knew  him  for  a  baby.  With  swift  practical  insight 
she  immediately  fixed  upon  what  he  could  do;  she 
sent  him  with  a  note  to  the  great  MacPherson,  the 
militant  editor  of  The  Pundit. 

"  Humph,"  squeaked  MacPherson,  "  if  Miss 
Brown  says  you  can,  you  can.  Her  judgment  of 
men's  infallible,  young  sir.  Hang  up  your  hat 
and  go  to  work." 

'What  prompted  you  to  help  me?"  Ruggles 
asked  her  later. 

"Did  you  ever  see  a  blind  kitten  with  the  look 
of  the  wise  philosopher?"  she  explained. — 
"  Well,  I  never  did  either." 


129 


XIV 

THE  SENATOR 

MRS.  CORLIS  drove  across  town  to  the  sta 
tion  to  meet  her  father.  The  last  division 
of  her  route  lay  through  unlovely  streets 
in  which  vice  was  squalor's  only  contrast.  The 
sights,  the  noises,  and  the  odors  were  repugnant  to 
the  pampered  senses  of  the  luxurious  woman  who 
rode  through  in  her  carriage.  She  wished,  if  pos 
sible,  to  screen  them  from  her,  and  reclined  far 
back  in  her  seat.  Then  abruptly  she  reproached 
herself,  asking  if  she  were,  indeed,  as  Chris  Rug- 
gles  had  intimated  concerning  all  her  class,  a  cow 
ard.  Did  she,  for  a  truth,  fear  to  encounter  the 
coarse  realities  of  life?  Could  her  excessive  deli 
cacy  endure  the  storm  only  when  it  was  tempered, 
clamor  only  when  set  to  music,  objects  only  when 
they  were  adorned? 

At  the  station  she  learned  that  the  train  was  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  late.  She  grew  restless  sitting 
in  the  carriage  and  accordingly  alighted  and  went 
inside.  She  walked  about  over  the  broad  board 
platforms  under  the  dusky  iron  vaulting,  and,  as 
she  paced  to  and  fro,  she  drew  attention  to  herself, 
as  with  her  always  happened.  The  best  defense 

130 


The   Mills   of  Man 

against  scrutiny,  she  knew,  was  scrutiny  of  others, 
and  so  she  forgot  herself  in  her  interest  in  them. 

Men  stood  in  groups  here  and  there  about  the 
station.  Some  were  talking  privily  in  the  ears  of 
others;  some  were  relating  anecdotes;  some  loud 
ly  argued.  They  all  were  scheming  or  discussing, 
or  manufacturing  popularity.  Mrs.  Corlis  recog 
nized  them  for  what  they  were,  and,  if  she  had 
not,  the  manner  in  which  they  showed  they  were 
acquainted  with  her  own  identity,  would  have  in 
formed  her.  Her  instructed  eye,  indeed,  distin 
guished  their  stripe  and  class;  knew  that  they 
\vere  Illinois  and  not  national  politicians,  that  the 
most  of  them  hailed  from  down  the  state,  and  that 
probably  not  one  of  them  owed  allegiance  to  Boss 
McBride's  machine.  She  was  even  certain  that 
they  came  from  middle  Illinois,  as  apart  from 
Egypt  or  Chicago,  and  from  the  small  cities  and 
the  larger  towns,  instead  of  from  the  rural  dis 
tricts. 

Mrs.  Corlis,  walking  and  waiting,  measuring 
these  men  in  diversion,  felt  her  nerves  thrill  sud 
denly.  This  instinct  for  appraising  men  was  in 
the  blood,  was  it  not?  Had  she  been  a  man,  she 
also  would  have  been  a  politician. 

The  men  gathered  here,  men  of  many  sorts  and 
various  passions — intriguers,  arguers,  orators,  sor 
did  seekers  of  offices  and  loot,  sentimentalists  with 
a  flux  of  language,  lovers  of  power  and  influence 


The   Mills   of  Man 

purely  for  its  own  sake,  but  all  of  them  local  lead 
ers,  chiefs  in  their  town  or  district  or  clan — they 
had  come  to  the  station  to  meet  their  chief,  to 
warm  him  with  their  devotion,  to  warn  him  with 
their  knowledge,  to  welcome  him  home.  Some 
would  strive  to  get  first  word  with  him,  some 
would  cheer  him  with  a  bit  of  good  news,  some 
would  whisper  of  defection  in  an  unexpected  quar 
ter  in  order  that  he  might  not  be  left  in  darkness 
to  make  a  mistake.  But  all  were  his  sworn 
friends,  his  followers,  his  henchmen.  They  would 
shout  for  him,  work  for  him,  cheat  for  him,  lie 
for  him,  who  was  their  idol  and  pride,  their  states 
man,  their  great  man. 

She  felt  that  it  was  beautiful,  this  loyalty  on 
their  part  and  this  leadership  on  his.  She  would 
have  liked  to  shake  hands  with  each  and  all  of 
them  and  thank  them  personally  for  her  father's 
sake. 

And  she  thrilled  again;  she  knew  by  the  re 
spect  within  their  eyes  that  they  recognized  her 
for  the  daughter  of  their  chief.  The  Dawes  pas 
sion  in  her  stirred;  could  a  woman  lead,  she  felt 
she  could  claim  the  succession  from  her  father  and 
prove  her  claim  successfully.  Had  she  only  been 
a  man,  she  would  have  been  a  natural  adept  in 
the  art  of  managing  men !  She  possessed  the  sym 
pathy  with  human  nature  and  the  understanding 
of  it,  too;  she  knew  men's  passions  and  their  in- 

132 


The  Mills  of  Man 

terests,  how  to  lead,  how  to  magnetize,  how  to 
combine  some  statesmanship  with  the  necessary  al 
loy  of  demagoguery. 

The  politicians  crowded  toward  the  gateway  at 
the  head  of  the  long  receiving  platform,  as  the 
train  slid  in. 

A  tall,  stoop-shouldered,  thin  old  gentleman 
came  shambling  down  the  causeway,  in  his  wake  a 
young  man  carrying  two  hand  bags.  Mrs.  Corlis, 
watching,  caught  a  glimpse,  and  her  heart  smote 
her. 

The  old  face  seemed  so  wan  and  the  faded  eyes 
so  sunken.  The  worn  skin  hung  in  wrinkles  as  if  it 
were  loose  leather,  and  the  long,  bony  arms 
flopped  at  his  sides  like  plucked  wings.  Indeed, 
he  looked  not  unlike  some  grotesque,  giant  bird. 
He  wore  black  clothes — a  black  frock  coat,  open 
in  front  and  flapping  dismally.  A  silk  hat  was  on 
his  head,  and  it  was  not  brushed  with  care.  His 
shoes  alone  seemed  finished  and  that  was  due  to 
the  porter  of  the  Pullman  car.  Altogether  he  re 
sembled  the  figure  of  some  rich  western  farmer,  or 
with  his  close-shaven  upper  lip,  some  Methodist 
bishop  whose  qualities  were  craft  and  piety. 

He  approached  the  gate.  Of  a  sudden,  at  a 
point,  the  slouching  figure  stiffened,  the  old  head 
came  up,  the  beak  of  the  nose  showed  like  a  blade, 
and  even  the  straggling  whisker  seemed  to  bristle. 
His  eye  had  sighted  the  reception  that  was  await- 

133 


The   Mills   of  Man 

ing  him.  The  old  war-horse  of  politics  sniffed  ex 
citement  just  ahead;  it  gladdened  him.  The 
goodly  aspect  of  those  assembled  politicians  re 
called  the  old  days  of  his  prime. 

He  did  not  get  away  from  them  for  three-quar 
ters  of  an  hour.  He  knew  each  man  by  name  and 
called  his  home  and  district.  He  stood  in  the 
midst  of  what  resolved  itself  into  an  impromptu 
reception,  distributing  hand-shakes  and  smiles  with 
references  that  showed  each  man  that  he  was  re 
membered  and  checked  off  in  his  leader's  mind. 
Cold-blooded  as  "  Uncle  Simeon  "  was  reputed  to 
be,  and  chilly-veined  as,  indeed,  he  looked,  some 
how  strong  magnetic  currents  radiated  from  his 
personality  that  hour  in  the  depressing  station,  and 
produced  in  his  followers  a  species  of  loyalty  and 
devotion  worth  more  than  acclamation  and  vocif 
erous  cheers.  How  the  effect  was  wrought,  no 
man  could  say.  Perhaps,  in  part,  it  was  the  influ 
ence  of  the  Senator's  great  name  and  his  reputa 
tion  in  the  past.  For  Simeon  E.  Dawes  was  some 
what  of  a  fetich  in  Illinois. 

Some  unique  quality  must  have  endowed  him 
with  power,  for  he  was  unaided  by  any  large  fund 
of  vitality,  and  in  temperament  he  was  not  espe 
cially  genial.  Nor  could  his  intellectual  processes 
be  considered  dazzlingly  brilliant.  While  an  ef 
fective  speaker,  he  was  neither  a  sentimental  rheto 
rician,  nor  an  irresistible  logician.  But  he  was 

134 


The   Mills   of  Man 

something  of  a  philosopher  and  by  virtue  of  that 
fact  he  had  arrived  at  a  creed  of  democracy  and 
a  recognition  of  the  folly  of  affectation  or  assumed 
superiority.  He  had  no  pretenses,  no  pomposities. 
He  genuinely  respected  each  man,  apart  from 
what  each  man  owned.  He  was,  in  fine,  that 
'character  of  a  past  generation,  an  old-fashioned 
American  gentleman. 

He  had  taken  off  his  hat  to  his  daughter  as  the 
press  of  friends  first  engulfed  him.  And  she  stood 
smilingly  to  one  side,  an  amused  and  delighted 
spectator.  Gradually  he  worked  his  way  to  her 
through  the  throng;  it  was  an  half  hour's  prog 
ress.  But  she  did  not  grow  impatient  or  tire  of 
the  spectacle,  though  she  suffered  standing  so  long 
on  her  feet. 

When  at  last  he  drew  clear  of  the  clinging  poli 
ticians  for  a  moment  and  turned  to  her,  she 
greeted  him  with  shining  eyes  and  put  up  her  lips 
in  daughterly  duty  to  be  kissed. 

She  saw  his  pride  in  her  and  how  he  seized  the 
advantage  of  her  compliant  temper. 

"  Wood,  Johnson,  Crawford,"  he  declared,  and 
she  perceived  some  shade  of  his  Washington  grand 
manner  magnifying  his  deportment,  "  I  want  you 
to  know  my  daughter.  Let  me  make  you  ac 
quainted  with  Mrs.  Corlis.  Victoria,  these  gentle 
men  are  my  friends.  Mr.  Johnson,  of  Sangamon 
county,  Mr.  Wood  of  La  Salle,  Mr.  Crawford  of 
Kankakee."  i-?- 


The   Mills   of  Man 

He  continued  introducing  all  his  friends.  With 
American  adaptability  they  formed  up  in  a  string. 
He  beckoned  them  to  advance  with  his  right  hand 
and  waved  his  left  as  he  presented  a  new  follower 
to  his  daughter. 

It  tickled  her  sense  of  humor.  She  liked  the  sit 
uation.  She  adjusted  herself,  smilingly,  to  the  or 
deal,  divining  how  much  a  little  tactful  condescen 
sion  might  aid  her  father.  Besides,  the  politician 
in  her  stirred  and  she  warmed  genially  with  the 
human  democratic  impulse.  Never,  not  in  Wash 
ington  or  Newport,  had  she  been  statelier  or  more 
kind;  never  had  her  dark  eyes  streamed  greater 
fascination  or  her  magnanimous  spirit  shone  more 
brightly  in  her  face. 

The  climax  set  her  laughing  and  her  laughter 
was  provocative  of  mirth.  An  ancient  farmer 
politician  wagged  her  gloved  hand  furiously  in  his 
horny  paw. 

"  I've  heard  of  ye  and  yer  goin's  on,  down  in 
Pipeville,  Clay  county,  whar  I  wuz  raised.  And 
I'm  danged  if  ye  ain't  a  chip  off  the  old  block,  an' 
I  knowed  the  Senator  for  forty  years.  Now  if  ye 
wuz  a  man,  ye'd  make  as  good  a  mixer  as  yer 
pop." 

Mrs.  Corlis  was  seated  in  the  carriage  and  the 
Senator  had  his  foot  upon  the  step.  Politicians 
clustered  close. 

"  But  where  did  you  say  you'd  be  found,  Sen- 
136 


The   Mills  of  Man 

ator?  "  was  the  last  question.  "  Where  do  you 
put  up?  " 

"  Oh,  I'll  be  down  at  The  Palmer  House  to 
night,  mebbe  late,  but  I'll  be  there,  boys.  Of 
course  I've  got  to  go  home  with  my  daughter  for 
awhile — she  wants  me,  don't  you,  Vicky?  " 

'  You  can't  escape.  We  shall  keep  him  for  din 
ner,  gentlemen,  and  then  we  will  send  him  down 
to  you.  He  never  will  consent  to  stay  all  night 
with  us,  you  know."  She  smiled  upon  them  all. 

'  Too  much  for  a  plain  old  man,"  chuckled  the 
Senator  in  a  stage  aside.  "  I  ain't  much  on  high 
life  myself." 

The  Senator  got  into  the  carriage,  while  a  mur 
mur  of  approval  came  from  his  followers. 

Mrs.  Corlis,  leaning  toward  them,  declared 
with  an  arch  smile, 

"  Gentlemen,  I  am  sorry  to  take  him  away  from 
you;  but  you  will  forgive  the  claims  of  affection, 
I  know.  I  only  wish  I  might  have  you  all  to  din 
ner  for  my  father's  sake  and  my  own  pleasure." 

She  bowed  and  swept  them  a  glance.  The  Sena 
tor  raised  his  silk  hat,  as  the  blooded  horses  started 
the  carriage  with  a  rush.  The  men  left  behind  felt 
the  spell. 

"  My  God,  ain't  she  a  hummer,"  summed  up 
Crawford  of  Kankakee. 


137 


XV 

THE  SENATOR  ACCEPTS 

4fT  AM  glad  to  have  you  close,"  she  said,  in  the 

X  sincerity  of  a  primitive  affection.  She  slid 
her  hand  into  his.  She  added  with  a  fond 
smile,  "  And  Uncle  Johnny  comes  to-morrow. 
Then  I  shall  have  all  my  men." 

He  pressed  her  fingers  in  reply.  He  appeared 
too  busy  with  his  thoughts  for  audible  response. 
She,  watching,  saw  the  careworn  face  grow  keen — 
was  it  to  the  point  of  cunning? — then  darken,  as 
with  lack  of  hope  in  any  of  his  schemes. 

But  seemingly,  as  with  an  effort,  he  thrust  aside 
his  thoughts  and  turned  to  her  his  whole  attention. 

"  When  this  convention  hubbub  is  all  over, 
daughter,  and  before  the  real  campaign  begins, 
you  must  go  with  me  down  to  Primrose  Hill,  to 
our  old  house  in  the  country  there.  As  I  look 
back,  those  were  our  happiest  days,  the  days  you 
were  a  little  girl  and  I  your  father  who  filled  the 
world  for  you." 

"Simple,  beautiful,  happy  days!"  she  whis 
pered. 

"  Ah,  that  they  were,"  he  said.  "  Summer  days 
138 


The  Mills  of  Man 

of  quiet  after  winter's  work,  and  I  had  all  I  ever 
wished  to  charm  my  leisure — books  and  views  and 
my  little  girl.  Do  you  remember,  Vicky,  the  fa 
mous  books  we  read  together,  Milton  and  old  Vir 
gil,  and  the  majestic  music  of  the  verses? — And 
then,  our  garden." 

"  And  the  dogs,  the  dear  dogs,  father.  Do  not 
leave  them  out.  I  think  still  of  their  graves  be 
neath  the  great  elm  tree,  and  I  wonder  if  they  are 
kept  green." 

"  And  the  sunsets,  and  the  river,  and  the  run  of 
the  level  prairies." 

"  Yes,  father,  yes;  one  cannot  speak  adequately 
of  things  too  deep  for  words." 

The  carriage  rolled  on.  Chicago's  clamor, 
through  whose  midst  they  rode,  could  not  vex  the 
intimate  communion  of  those  two  souls,  who, 
though  of  generations  which  differ  as  does  faith 
from  want  of  faith,  yet  in  intellectual  sympathy 
were  closely  akin. 

But,  when  the  carriage  crossed  the  bridge  into 
the  quieter  North  Side,  Mrs.  Corlis  roused  herself 
to  practical  activity.  The  exigency  of  pressing 
facts  imposed  upon  her  the  immediate  duty  of  per 
suasion. 

"  Pater,"  she  commenced  vivaciously,  "  who 
do  you  suppose  is  invited  to  meet  you  at  dinner  to 
night?  You  can  never  guess,  and  so  I  shall  in- 

139 


The   Mills   of  Man 

form  you  outright.  It's  Mr.  and  Mrs.  McBride 
-Boss  McBride." 

She  paused  to  note  the  effect  of  the  name. 
There  was  no  positive  effect.  Only  a  gray  veil 
seemed  to  shut  down  over  the  features  of  the  Sen 
ator,  obscuring  expression  as  fog  may  abruptly 
blot  a  landscape.  Long  years  had  made  this  neu 
tralization  a  habit  with  the  old  politician,  when 
any  emergency  obtruded ;  it  was  automatic,  like  an 
eyelid's  fall,  an  instinctive  defense. 

She  queried  meekly, 

1  You  are  not  displeased?  " 

He  answered  by  asking  in  the  driest  tone, 

"  And  McBride  accepted,  did  he,  knowing  it 
was  I  he  was  to  meet?  " 

'  Yes,  indeed,"  she  said  cheerfully.  "  He  was 
told  it  was  expressly  to  meet  you.  And,  father,  I 
wish  you  would  be  friendly  with  him — please,  be 
cause  I  ask  it  " — a  touch  of  her  old  childish  insist 
ence  sweetened  her  blandishment  for  him.  ''  I 
have  taken  so  much  trouble  to  prepare  the  way. 
He  is  willing,  indeed,  quite  anxious,  to  let  bygones 
be  bygones;  for  in  his  heart,  father,  he  admires 
you  and  he  says  you  are  a  statesman." 

The  last  word  stirred  the  Senator. 

"  Listen,  father,  please,  to  me.  That  man  is 
not  all  bad;  I  have  found  some  unsuspected  good 
things  about  him.  I  was  surprised.  He  has  either 
been  maligned  or  he  has  not  been  given  his  due. 

140 


The   Mills   of  Man 

Some  day  I  must  tell  you  the  story  about  his  wife, 
and  you  will  agree  with  me  that  the  big,  rough  fel 
low  possesses  not  only  a  heart  but  some  knightly 
qualities — chivalrous  traits  I  have  seen  gentlemen 
fail  in." 

She  looked  into  his  face,  charmingly  confident 
of  her  own  power. 

"  Now  then,  confess,  Mr.  Statesman,  I  am  not 
your  own  daughter  for  nothing."  She  bridled  as 
she  went  on,  "I  am  a  bit  of  a  politician  too.  The 
plot  was  mine,  though  I  made  Walter  connive  in 
it,  and  I  have  tamed  the  tiger,  I  believe,  and  all 
you  will  have  to  do  will  be  to  stroke  the  beast  the 
right  way  to  set  it  purring. — Please  ! — I'll  never  be 
content  until  you  and  the  Boss  have  become  the 
best  of  friends. — You  won't  be  naughty  and  make 
all  my  work  go  for  nothing,  will  you,  Pater? 
Promise  me!  " 

The  sense  of  what  she  said  seemed  not  to  pene 
trate  into  his  mind  at  once,  and  she  continued  to 
look  up  pleadingly.  Then,  gradually,  the  conceal 
ing  veil  dissolved  before  his  countenance,  but  with 
it  disappeared  what  in  the  face  seemed  most  ven 
erable.  Eager  cunning,  grasping  emulation  peered 
forth  from  the  old  eyes,  and  the  hawk  nose  and 
cavernous  cheeks  assumed  a  Machiavellian  aspect. 
'  You  don't  say  so,"  he  abruptly  gasped,  and 
thrust  his  face  into  hers.  "  McBride's  amenable, 
you  mean?  He's  ready  for  a  deal?  " 

141 


The   Mills   of  Man 

He  sank  back  against  the  seat,  raising  a  hand 
and  dropping  it  with  a  thwack  upon  his  knee  in  his 
excitement. 

"  Thank  God,"  he  murmured,  "  thank  God." 

She  was  loath  to  acknowledge  all  she  was  forced 
to  perceive;  she  preferred  to  admit  only  the  joy- 
fulness  of  his  relief.  Yet  even  that  seemed  to 
smack  of  unction,  and,  despite  her  will,  she  was 
impressed  with  the  Phariseeism  of  that  shaven 
upper  lip. 

The  more  she  considered,  the  more  his  quick  ac 
quiescence  seemed,  in  a  way,  shameful.  Even  she 
apparently  had  not  then  gauged  the  shiftiness  of 
opportunistic  politics.  She  had  counted  on  a  bat 
tle  royal  to  bring  him  to  her  plan;  she  had  ex 
pected  citations  of  principle  and  parade  of  scruple 
against  striking  hands  with  one  whom  he  had  de 
nounced  again  and  again  as  "  a  modern  freebooter 
and  a  chief  danger  to  the  nation."  Instead  (she 
could  not  but  employ  the  simile  her  husband  had 
used  to  describe  what  he  declared  her  father  would 
do)  he  had  risen  like  some  greedy  trout  and  taken 
with  a  rush  and  gobble  the  bait  she  had  fancied 
she  must  take  pains  to  cast  skillfully  for  his  entice 
ment.  The  prompt  surrender  sickened  her. 

She  took  herself  to  task,  however.  If  she  were 
doing  man's  work,  she  dared  not  allow  woman's 
delicacy  to  intrude;  she  needed  to  remember  that 
politics,  if  anything,  is  the  science  of  compromise 

142 


The   Mills   of  Man 

and  adjustment.  She  knew  that  well — had  not 
her  father  always  said  that  a  reformer  was  one 
who  insisted  on  the  best  way  or  none  at  all,  while 
a  politician  secured  whatever  good  could  be  got 
ten? 

Besides  she  was  loyal  to  her  men;  she  was  de 
voted  to  her  father's  cause.  Even  against  princi 
ple  would  she  not  have  helped  him?  Essentially 
she  was  a  woman  whose  loyalty  to  her  concrete 
passions  would,  in  any  crisis,  dominate  her  abstract 
devotions.  Remorse,  given  the  proper  exigency, 
she  might  have  been  willing  to  endure  in  the  cause 
of  love. 


Mr.  Corlis,  entering  his  wife's  sitting-room, 
found  her  ready  to  go  downstairs.  Some  slight 
cynical  amusement  twinkled  coldly  in  his  pale  eyes, 
while  a  half  smile  slightly  lifted  the  close-cropped 
black  mustache.  Mrs.  Corlis  divined  the  subject 
of  his  mirth  and  anticipated  the  subject  of  his  re 
marks;  but  she  nevertheless  experienced  from  his 
presence  a  relief.  He,  at  least,  was  palpably  what 
he  appeared — handsome,  fascinating,  selfish,  ma 
terial,  and  he  took  pride  in  all  these  qualities.  No 
duplicities  of  complexity  were  coiled  in  him;  no 
shades  of  hypocrisy  made  problematical  his  hue. 
'  Yes,"  she  answered  the  question  of  his  man- 

10  143 


The   Mills   of  Man 

ner.     "  It  was  as  you  said  it  would  be.     You  are 
always  right.     So  clever." 

"  Humph,  I  wouldn't  feel  cut  up  about  it,  Vic 
toria.  Politics  is  the  art  of  being  spry.  The  thing 
te  to  keep  in  office,  not  to  keep  right,  or  even  to 
keep  honorable.  I,  for  one,  admire  the  adaptabil 
ity  of  the  old  fox." 

"  Don't !  "  she  begged,  bending  that  he  might 
not  gloat  over  the  pain  in  her  eyes.  Presently  she 
asked  hopelessly,  "  But — is  not  statesmanship 
more  than  politics?  Are  there  no  principles?" 

'  To  succeed  is  to  be  a  statesman ;  to  fail  is  not 
even  to  be  a  politician,"  he  retorted  smartly. 
"  And  to  retire  on  the  grandest  principle  is  to 
fail." 

She  sat  in  her  stiffest  attitude,  elbow  propped  on 
knee,  chin  on  her  palm. 

"  But  he  was  a  statesman  once,"  she  murmured, 
as  if  to  herself.  "  He  had  ideals  he  fought  for — 
the  Republic  and  the  People." 

"  Oh,  they  all  start  that  way,"  Mr.  Corlis 
sneered.  "  Your  rhetorical  politician  generally 
commences  as  a  sentimentalist.  The  Senator  in 
his  youth,  no  doubt,  was  a  true  believer;  but  he 
has  progressed  until  he's  recognized  as  the  wiliest 
old  customer  in  the  West.  When  they  think 
they've  cornered  him,  he's  certain  to  break  out  in 
a  new  spot.  It  was  Ransom  six  years  ago ;  it  will 
be  McBride  this  year." 

144 


The   Mills  of  Man 

She  rose  with  a  sigh,  and  stood  a  moment  pen 
sively.  Then  a  curious  smile  swept  her  face. 

"  Let  us  go  down  and  manage  the  menagerie," 
she  said. 

On  the  stairs  she  glanced  back  at  her  husband, 
who  was  following  her. 

'  To  sum  it  all  up,  as  they  say  nowadays,  every 
thing  goes." 

'  Yes,  anything,"  was  Mr.  Corlis'  slight  amend 
ment  to  her  flippancy. 


XVI 

THE  MEETING  OF  THE  MINDS 

MRS.  CORLIS  made  the  dinner  a  success 
that  night.  She  tuned  the  discordant 
strings  assembled  into  harmony.  The 
whole  performance  was  wrought  to  minister  to  her 
father's  good.  Yet  never  had  she  so  sharply  real 
ized  what  indeed  she  had  long  dimly  guessed,  that 
politics  does  not  consist  of  great  ideas,  masterful 
leaderships,  and  noble  devotions  to  democratic 
principles.  She  had  before  her  eyes  its  play,  its 
use  of  petty  forces,  its  employment  of  the  meanest 
arts,  its  flatteries  and  smiles.  It  was  no  better 
than  society,  she  thought,  and  she  understood  why, 
if  the  father  had  succeeded  in  politics,  the  daugh 
ter  had  climbed  to  eminence  in  society. 

Senator  Dawes  looked,  indeed,  not  unlike  the 
elder  worthies  of  the  Republic.  If  not  a  reproduc 
tion,  he  was  a  respectable  imitation.  His  ascetic 
countenance,  his  worn  eyes,  his  shaven  lip,  the  nat 
ural  gravity  of  his  features,  and  the  dignity  of  his 
bearing,  were  calculated  to  impress  men.  He 
would  have  become  the  Roman  Senate,  and  he  was 
more  than  a  passable  ornament  in  the  American. 

146 


The   Mills   of  Man 

He  inclined  to  McBride,  however,  to  a  degree 
his  daughter  felt  was  due  only  to  distinction.  He 
smiled  so  largely,  lent  so  much  attention,  addressed 
his  remarks  so  pointedly  to  the  Boss,  and  so 
marked  his  appreciation  of  every  utterance  that 
fell  from  the  Irishman's  lips,  that  Mrs.  Corlis 
grew  half  ashamed  of  the  spectacle.  Vainly  she 
sought  relief  in  her  husband's  eye;  he  would  not 
respond.  She  could  see  how  he  was  enjoying  the 
exhibition — smiling,  cynical,  his  humor  pleased 
with  the  asinine  possibilities  in  venerable  old  men, 
and  with  the  exigency  that  promoted  a  vulgar 
Irish  boss  to  equality  with  a  famous  statesman. 

Yet,  as  the  dinner  advanced,  she  could  not  but 
perceive  that  the  tactics  which  had  appeared  to  her 
a  mere  display  of  bad  taste,  were  winning  the  bat 
tle  for  the  Senator.  McBride  apparently  was  cap 
tivated;  he  squirmed  delightedly  under  the  ful 
some  flattery,  much  like  a  fat  toad  that  feels  the 
sun's  caress.  He  warmed  to  the  Senator  and 
showed  his  pleasure  by  diffusing  a  rank  good-fel 
lowship.  Evidently  the  personal  admiration  he 
had  confessed  for  Senator  Dawes  was  not  a  pleas 
ant  invention  of  a  dinner  guest.  Ignorantly  he  re 
spected  the  high  prestige  of  Illinois'  "  grand  old 
man,"  and,  therefore,  nothing  could  be  sweeter 
to  his  taste  or  more  gratifying  to  his  pride  than  to 
be  made  so  much  of  openly,  "  to  be  played  for  "  so 

147 


The  Mills  of  Man 

strongly  by  the  statesman  he  had  looked  up  to  as 
"  out  of  his  class." 

After  all,  then,  Mrs.  Corlis  could  not  but  con 
clude,  she  was  witnessing  still  another  demonstra 
tion  of  her  father's  consummate  knowledge  of  hu 
man  nature.  It  was  a  new  chapter  in  the  book, 
"  On  the  Government  of  Men,"  and  it  might  be 
entitled,  "  The  Art  of  Charming  Bull-Necked 
Gentlemen  From  the  Slums,  or  Coarse  Flattery 
for  Coarse  Personages." 

On  the  other  hand,  Mr.  Corlis  gained  in  her 
eyes.  He  was  incapable  of  making  an  exhibition 
of  himself;  he  never  was  ridiculous.  He  man 
aged  McBride  with  dexterous  ease,  deftly  flat 
tered  him,  considered  him  without  the  appearance 
of  doing  so,  and  never  proved  wheedling  in  his 
blandishments  or  ungraceful,  though  he  stooped 
to  conquer.  He  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table,  ele 
gant,  cool,  and  armed  cap-a-pie,  a  perfectly  poised 
man  of  the  world,  possessed  of  the  knack  of  get 
ting  on  with  any  man,  yet  never  himself  a  man 
whom  any  other  would  think  of  slapping  on  the 
back.  Such  was  the  eminently  feminine  judgment 
of  Mrs.  Corlis. 

Meanwhile  she  had  Mrs.  McBride  on  her 
hands.  And,  had  she  known  it,  her  gracious 
treatment  of  the  Boss's  wife  was  no  small  factor  in 
the  disposition  of  the  Boss  to  be  amenable  to  the 
Senator's  persuasion. 


The   Mills   of  Man 

Mrs.  McBride  was  overdressed  and  overawed, 
but  instinctively  she  snuggled  up  to  her  hostess  as 
if  confident  of  that  lady's  kind  indulgence.  She 
simpered  much  at  first,  and  did  not  know  what  to 
do.  Her  meekness  was  her  defense,  however,  for 
she  seemed  not  so  much  badly  bred  as  just  not 
bred  at  all.  Once  she  realized  the  breadth  of 
Mrs.  Corlis'  protecting  wing,  her  fears  subsided 
and  she  purred  comfortably  like  a  little  cat. 

Gretchen  had  expected  that  Mrs.  Corlis  would 
prove  to  be  a  starched-up  lady,  bent  first  of  all 
upon  convincing  her  inferior  of  her  own  infinite 
superiority.  Instead,  when  Mrs.  Corlis  called, 
Gretchen  found  in  her  a  woman  who  made  no 
pretensions,  who  seemed  content  to  let  her  quality 
speak  for  itself.  As  she  said  to  her  "  Mike  " 
afterwards,  with  that  just  perception  which  at  in 
tervals  is  given  to  simplicity,  "  It  must  be  she 
knows  that  I  and  everybody  else  knows  who  she 
is,  so  it  don't  worry  her  whether  other  people 
know  or  not." 

As  the  last  course  was  served,  the  talk  turned 
upon  the  political  condition  of  the  state.  Egypt 
was  what  interested  every  one. 

As  Mr.  Corlis  succinctly  stated  it, 

"  Does  the  dog  wag  the  tail,  or  the  tail  the  dog, 
is  what  we  want  to  know." 

"  The  Senator  can  tell,"  Boss  McBride  said 
flatteringly.  "  Did  Governor  Ransom  ever  con- 

149 


The  Mills  of  Man 

sort  much  with  them  Silver  fellers  until  this  last 
winter?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Senator  Dawes,  judicially  consid 
ering  his  answer;  "  well,  I  guess  Randolph  always 
cherished  a  kindly  feeling  for  the  heresy  and  the 
advocates  of  the  heresy;  but  by  himself  he 
couldn't  stir  up  Egypt  the  way  she's  boiling  now. 
Randolph  sort  of  saw  the  chance  and  he  jumped 
into  the  lead,  that's  all.  But  don't  mistake,  gen 
tlemen.  Allow  me  to  impress  it  on  you  now,  this 
is  no  cabal,  or  kick  of  disgruntled  politicians;  it's 
a  regular  Mississippi  flood,  and,  if  all  right-think 
ing  men  don't  get  together  hard,  it  will  not  only 
sweep  the  Republican  party  out  of  power  in  the 
nation,  in  the  state,  and  in  the  cities  "  —he  tapped 
the  table  to  emphasize  the  cities  for  McBride — 
"  but  it  will  put  the  country  back  in  civilization 
fifty  years." 

Mrs.  Corlis  brightened.  The  statesman  was 
appearing  now.  The  two  men  looked  at  the  Sen 
ator  to  hear  more. 

He  continued, 

'  The  very  fact  that  such  an  astute  and  experi 
enced  politician  as  Randolph  Ransom  has  cast  in 
his  fortunes  with  that  cause,  is  to  my  mind  pretty 
conclusive  evidence  of  the  movement's  magnitude. 
I've  known  Randolph  ever  since  he  was  a  boy;  I 
knew  his  father  intimately  before  him;  and  I  tell 
you  frankly,  gentlemen,  that  you  people  in  Chi- 

150 


The   Mills   of  Man 

cago  are  miscalculating  if  you  think  the  Governor 
does  not  know  what  he's  doing,  where  he's  headed 
for.  He  does,  he  does,  every  time." 

"  How  do  they  feel  about  our  row  in  Washing 
ton?  "  presently  asked  Mr.  Corlis. 

"  Deeply  concerned,  deeply  so,"  replied  the 
Senator,  shaking  his  head  oracularly.  "  I  saw  the 
President  a  half  hour  Thursday  afternoon.  He 
has  an  eye  closely  fixed  on  the  situation  here,  gen 
tlemen.  He  urged  upon  me  not  once  nor  twice  the 
necessity  of  our  getting  together  in  order  that  the 
purpose  of  the  Silver  men  in  the  convention  may 
be  frustrated.  His  last  words  to  me  were,  '  Tell 
my  friends,  all  my  friends,  that  Illinois  this  year 
sounds  the  key-note  for  the  whole  country.  Let 
not  that  note  be  Silver.'  ' 

"  He  did  not  advise  that  we  come  out  squarely 
against  Silver,  did  he?"  Mr.  Corlis  asked,  with 
his  disbelieving  smile. 

"  He  is  not  prepared  for  that  as  yet.  He 
doesn't  want  men  like  Governor  Ransom  read 
fairly  out  of  the  party,  without  chance  for  repent 
ance  or  time  in  which  to  change  their  attitude.  I 
think  his  idea  is  that  Illinois  Republicans,  by  get 
ting  together  and  avoiding  unseemly  quarrels, 
should  rather  discountenance  Free  Silver  as  an 
issue  than  by  directly  condemning  it  antagonize 
the  Free  Silver  element  who  are  still  in  the  party." 

"  The  President,  I  take  it,  does  not  wish  us  to 


The  Mills  of  Man 

anticipate  the  action  of  the  National  Convention 
two  years  hence,"  said  Mr.  Corlis,  by  way  of  in 
terpreting  the  Senator's  statement. 

"  It  is  too  early,  he  believes.  Silver  by  that 
time  may  have  hung  itself,  if  allowed  plenty  of 
rope.  Consequently  he  hopes  rather  for  party 
harmony  at  this  time  than  for  party  determina 
tion,"  explained  the  Senator. 

"  Humph,"  ejaculated  Mr.  Corlis,  "  he  calls 
for  a  modern  miracle  by  which  he  would  have  us 
mix  oil  and  water  in  a  perfect  blend.  Just  like 
him,  that." 

"  I'm  with  you,  Senator,  on  that  proposition," 
declared  McBride.  "  Harmony  won't  hurt  none; 
it's  a  mighty  good  time  for  us  to  get  together 
strong.  Them's  the  Senator's  and  my  sentiments 
exact." 

In  this  "  pow-wow,"  as  he  styled  it  in  his 
thoughts,  and  not  all  of  which  he  understood,  the 
Boss  shrewdly  discerned  the  offering  of  the  olive 
branch.  He  gratefully  signified  his  acceptance  of 
the  same.  He  agreed  openly  with  Senator  Dawes, 
because  he  knew  that  the  Senator  thereby  tacitly 
pledged  himself  to  cease  his  war  upon  the  Cook 
County  organization  and  to  recognize  the  Ma 
chine  as  entitled  to  a  share  at  Springfield  and  in 
Washington. 

Mrs.  Corlis  arose,  when  coffee  was  served,  and 
152 


The   Mills   of  Man 

took  Mrs.  McBride  away  with  her,  leaving  the 
men  alone  with  their  politics  and  wine. 

Once  in  the  drawing-room  with  her  guest  Mrs. 
Corlis  realized  how  little  they  had  in  common. 
There  was  a  moment  of  embarrassment,  until  the 
hostess  solved  the  problem  by  conducting  the 
flaxen  Gretchen  to  the  nursery  and  exhibiting  con 
trivances  for  the  care  of  babies. 

Gretchen  glowed  and  found  her  tongue.  She 
sat  down  with  the  great  lady  under  the  light  of  a 
gas  jet  and  babbled  of  children.  Mrs.  Corlis  was 
surprised  to  find  the  prattle  interesting.  The  ma 
ternal  sense  was  stronger  in  her  than  she  herself 
supposed,  for  its  objects  in  her  case  had  not  been 
her  children  so  much  as  her  husband  and  her 
father.  Without  understanding  why,  she  spoke 
to  her  guest  of  her  own  two  children  at  school  in 
the  East,  whom  she  feared  she  had  neglected  more 
than  she  should  in  her  occupation  with  social  life 
and  affairs  of  ambition. 

Mrs.  McBride  showed  her  sympathy  in  her  own 
way. 

And  Mrs.  Corlis  held  Gretchen's  hand  and 
patted  it,  while  that  child,  who  was  a  wife,  gur 
gled  about  her  own  babies  and  their  father 
11  Mike." 

"  And  Mr.  McBride,"  Mrs.  Corlis  said,  "  he  is 
very  fond  of  children,  I  know.  A  good  husband 
is  always  a  good  father." 

153 


The  Mills  of  Man 

"  He  is  both,"  declared  Gretchen  with  convic 
tion.  "  I'm  so  glad  you  think  good  of  him,  Mrs. 
Corlis.  It  takes  his  own  family  to  know  how  real 
good  he  is.  Oh,  Mike  is  a  first-class  family  man." 

"  I  can  well  believe  that,"  Mrs.  Corlis  an 
swered.  "  His  gentleness  to  you  is  evidence 
enough.  And,  when  he  was  here  before,  he  told 
me  something  about  his  sons  and  about  his  '  little 
girl,'  as  he  calls  you." 

"  He  is  so  good — he  is  the  best  man  of  them 
all,"  bleated  Gretchen  rapturously.  "  And  he's 
never  said  an  unkind  word  to  me,  Mrs.  Corlis,  not 
one  in  all  these  four  years  he's  married  me.  He's 
never  thrown  it  up  at  me,  not  once,  what  he  took 
me  from,  and  what  I'd  be  to-day  if  he  hadn't." 

The  German  Madonna  face  looked  up  at  Mrs. 
Corlis,  and  the  eyes  had  pearls  in  them.  She 
prattled  on, 

"  I  don't  suppose  I  ought  to  talk  to  you  this 
way,  Mrs.  Corlis,  and  perhaps  you  didn't  know 
of  it  or  you  wouldn't  have  had  me  here.  But,  if 
I  ain't  too  impudent,  you  have  such  a  way  with 
you,  and  I  feel  just  as  safe  with  you  as  I  do  with 
Mike  himself." 

"  You  must  not  be  troubled,  Gretchen — you 
will  let  me  call  you  Gretchen,  I  am  sure.  I'm 
coming  to  your  house  often;  I  dearly  want  to  see 
the  babies  and  to  play  with  them,  if  you  will  let 
me." 

154 


The  Mills  of  Man 

"  Let  you !  "  The  soft  eyes  shone.  "  I  should 
think  I  would.  Why,  I'd  do  anything  you  said. 
You  see,  I  thought  beforehand  I'd  be  awful  scared 
of  you,  you're  such  a  high-up  swell  and  all  that. 
But  I'm  not  a  teeny  bit,  you  are  so  sweet  and 
lovely,  and  you've  got  something  so  good  and 
motherly  about  you." 

Mrs.  Corlis  smiled  at  the  impression  she  had 
produced,  and  stroked  the  soft  fair  hair. 

'  The  idea  seems  a  trifle  foreign  to  my  style, 
dear  Gretchen,  but  perhaps — let's  pray  God  it's 
so." 

From  smiling  she  fell  into  a  musing  fit,  curling 
Gretchen's  hair  between  her  fingers  in  her  abstrac 
tion.  Gretchen  sat  worshipful  and  mute. 

Presently:  '  I  have  been  too  proud  and  too 
ambitious,  I'm  afraid,  and  I  want  to  be  a  little 
kind  and  humble  before  I  die.  Do  you  under 
stand  me  in  the  least,  I  wonder?  Perhaps  not, 
but  it  doesn't  matter,  dear.  It's  only  that  I've 
done  too  much  to  make  distinctions  between  peo 
ple,  to  help  some  to  be  exalted  and  to  tread  upon 
others'  necks.  And  now,  too  late,  it  comes  to  me 
that  I  need  to  love  and  sympathize  a  little  in  the 
common  human  way.  The  failures,  after  all, 
count  up  for  so  much  in  the  world,  and  I  have  had 
to  do  only  with  the  successes — the  hard,  the  false 
successes.  Gretchen,  you  will  be  my  friend  and 
help  me,  will  you  not?  " 

155 


The   Mills   of  Man 

Gretchen  looked  up  with  a  pitying  and  a  grate 
ful  face. 

"  Of  course  I  will,"  she  stoutly  said.  "  I  am 
that  proud  you  want  me  for  your  friend.  The  way 
most  ladies  treat  me,  I'd  suppose  I  wasn't  good 
enough  to  do  their  wash."  She  smiled  in  almost 
smug  content.  "  But  I  guess  you  know  whether 
I  ain't  or  not." 


156 


XVII 

BEFORE  THE   CONVENTION 

UNCLE  Simeon  Dawes  u  put  up "  at  the 
Palmer  House  "  straight  enough."  As  he 
informed  his  daughter,  it  would  never  do 
at  this  time  of  stress  and  strain  for  him  "  to  quit 
herding  with  the  plain  people."  He  could  not  be 
expected  to  consort  much  with  such  an  unmiti 
gated  aristocrat  as  his  own  daughter,  at  this  crisis 
anyhow. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Senator  Dawes  needed  to 
be  close  to  the  heart  of  things  at  all  hours  and  at 
all  moments.  His  hand  must  feel  the  throttle,  his 
touch  gauge  the  pulse,  his  experience  and  resource 
be  immediately  available  to  cope  with  circum 
stances  as  they  arose  and  to  bend  opinion  while  it 
remained  ductile. 

Therefore  he  took  a  parlor  and  a  suite  in  the 
Palmer  House.  On  one  side  were  the  headquar 
ters  of  the  State  Central  Committee,  and  on  the 
other  those  of  the  Cook  County  Republican  Club. 

The  Sunday  and  Monday,  which  intervened  be 
tween  the  Saturday  of  the  Senator's  arrival  in 
Chicago  and  the  Tuesday  when  the  Convention 
would  convene,  were  consumed  with  the  mending 

157 


The  Mills  of  Man 

of  small  matters.  But  no  crisis  developed.  Plans 
were  yet  embryonic,  and  combinations,  if  such  did 
exist,  too  unconfessed.  Better  stated :  Issues  had 
not  yet  been  sharply  joined;  animosities  had  not 
come  to  a  head;  alliances  were  not  yet  consum 
mated;  while  the  forces  that  governed,  not  sure 
in  their  own  minds  of  exactly  what  they  wanted, 
refrained  from  the  use  of  influence  and  persua 
sion.  But  conflict  was  in  the  air;  the  suppressed 
electricity  was  felt,  and  rumors  and  reports  flew 
thick  as  the  city's  smoke. 

Senator  Dawes  did  not  get  beyond  the  threshold 
of  his  rooms  those  two  days.  He  was  constantly 
engaged  in  receiving  visitors,  of  whom  all  sorts 
and  sizes  filled  his  outer  chamber.  "  Uncle 
Simeon"  was  no  "Chinese  god  ";  to  seclude  him 
self  had  never  been  his  policy.  He  kept  an  open 
door;  at  Washington  he  would  do  impossible 
things  for  man  or  woman  who  hailed  from  Illinois, 
and  when  in  the  state  he  was  accessible  to  any 
one  of  his  constituents,  which  meant  any  one  who 
called.  In  fact,  he  thought  it  was  no  time  wasted 
to  be  bored  by  any  fool  who  chose  to  bore  him, 
and  in  this  manner  he  had  come  to  be  acquainted 
with  thousands  of  the  solid  citizens  and  plain  peo 
ple  of  Illinois.  The  Senator  considered  that  he 
never  knew  when  or  where  he  might  need  some 
humble  friend. 

There  were  degrees,  however,  to  "  Uncle  Sim- 
158 


The   Mills   of  Man 

eon's "  hospitality  this  season  at  the  Palmer 
House.  In  the  outer  parlor  the  many  herded,  and 
they  were  a  host.  There  the  Senator  entered  every 
hour  or  so,  passed  through  their  midst,  smiled, 
shook  hands  with  each  man  of  them  as  if  he  w,ere 
a  long  lost  friend,  perhaps  vouchsafed  a  word  or 
two,  rarely  a  promise.  He  evinced,  moreover,  a 
surprising  faculty  of  shaking  off  a  too  importunate 
or  too  enthusiastic  visitor,  yet  without  giving  great 
offense. 

In  a  second  room  sat  groups  of  four  or  five, 
men  come  from  this  or  that  locality,  either  dele 
gates  or  substitutes,  or  powers  behind  petty 
thrones.  To  these  the  Senator  appeared,  when 
summoned;  for  them  an  open  cigar-box  lay  upon 
the  marble-topped  table.  The  Senator  slipped 
into  the  room  with  an  air  of  mysterious  inscruta 
bility,  treated  each  man  as  if  he  were  a  confidential 
friend,  leaned  a  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  whis 
pered  in  his  ear,  nodded  a  solemn  head  upon  re 
ceiving  the  advice.  When  a  cheap  politician  quit 
that  second  room,  he  carried  away  an  impression 
of  how  important  the  Senator  thought  him,  and 
of  how  much  the  Senator  intrusted  to  his  discre 
tion.  In  reality  the  Senator  had  extracted  what 
ever  gold  there  was  and  had  deposited  a  brick  in 
its  stead. 

There  remained  a  third  room,  the  sanctum. 
Cigars  (two  for  a  quarter)  and  bottles  of  sound 

11  '59 


The   Mills   of  Man 

rye  and  bourbon  were  articles  displayed  upon  the 
mantel-shelf.  There  lounged  Crawford  of  Kan- 
kakee,  Johnson  of  Sangamon,  and  Wood  of  La 
Salle.  They  drank  the  whisky  and  smoked  the 
cigars.  They  conferred  frequently  with  "  Uncle 
Simeon's  "  secretary,  a  lean  young  man,  tall  as  a 
telegraph  pole  and  buzzing  like  the  wires  with 
news. 

The  Senator  spent  his  unoccupied  time  in  there 
also.  He  smoked  an  occasional  cigar  and  now  and 
then  took  a  nip  of  the  Kentucky  dew.  Also  he 
conferred  and  sometimes  he  swore,  that  is,  after 
looking  first  to  see  who  were  in  the  room  and 
then  at  the  window's  and  doors.  When  he  swore 
his  profanity  was  vigorously  voluminous,  and  yet 
it  acted  as  a  sort  of  moral  pinch  of  snuff,  for  after 
ward  he  was  particularly  mild  and  easy.  That  the 
now  sainted  statesman  ever  had  the  habit,  is  one 
of  the  state  secrets  of  Illinois. 

Into  the  sanctum  during  those  two  days  wyalked 
many  leaders,  but  at  no  time  entered  McBride  or 
Mr.  Corlis  or  any  of  the  Cook  County  men. 

Within  those  three  rooms  in  those  two  days 
"  Uncle  Simeon  "  played  many  parts.  He  simu 
lated  in  succession  the  pious  respectability,  the 
honest  farmer,  the  ponderous  statesman,  the  cour 
teous  old-fashioned  gentleman,  the  confident  poli 
tician,  the  abused  and  betrayed  old  man.  He 

160 


The   Mills  of  Man 

passed  through  the  transformations  deftly,  a  little 
thing  accomplishing  the  whole  change. 

The  shoulders  fell,  the  mouth  drooped,  the 
voice  took  on  a  doleful  tone,  and  he  appeared  the 
martyred  friend  of  the  people,  the  noble  man  with 
the  breaking  heart,  whom  rascally  politicians  were 
victimizing.  A  lift  of  the  chin,  a  solemn  light 
upon  the  brow,  and  behold,  Illinois'  great  states 
man,  a  prop  of  the  nation,  the  pillar  of  the  state. 
A  drawl,  a  flat  tone,  a  loosening  of  the  gaunt 
anatomy,  and  lo,  you  have  farmer  Dawes,  who 
calls  Cuba  "  Cuby,"  as  he  draws  the  back  of  his 
hand  across  his  mouth  and  nostrils.  A  few  curves 
and  an  added  deliberation  to  his  movements,  and 
you  see  the  country  gentleman  of  old-time  stately 
breeding;  you  notice  how  small  his  foot  is  and  the 
delicacy  of  his  long  thin  hands.  Ah,  it  is  a  circus 
to  watch  "  Uncle  Simeon's "  metamorphoses  a 
half-day  through. 

An  old  friend  of  the  Senator,  a  rich  man,  who 
had  made  some  of  his  money  out  of  politics, 
dropped  in  to  see  how  things  were  getting  on.  He 
was  thick  and  big,  given  to  corpulence  and  humor. 
As  a  Connecticut  Yankee  by  birth  he  had  a  cyni 
cal  insight  into  motives  and  the  nature  of  the  ma 
jority  of  mankind. 

He  stood  up  close  to  the  lean  and  wrinkled 
statesman,  while  the  two  clasped  hands. 

"  Well,  Senator,  I  thought  I'd  just  come  up  to 
161 


The  Mills  of  Man 

see  how  things  are  with  you.    You  know  you  have 
my  best  wishes." 

"  Cordial  thanks,  Bissell.  A  man  has  need  of 
all  the  friends  he's  got,  and  I  need  'em  every  one 
just  now." 

'  Well,   I  hope  you've  got  a-plenty,   Senator. 
How  does  it  look?  " 

"  Hopeful,  hopeful,  that's  all  that  can  be  said." 
The  dolorous  tone  matched  the  dolorous  look  of 
the  old  man's  face.  '  They're  pressing  me  pretty 
hard,  for  all  that's  in  'em,  I  guess.  And  they 
aren't  above  any  methods  to  defeat  me." 

Bissell  smiled  his  broadest  smile;  he  knew  the 
Senator's  bait  for  pity. 

"  Oh,  I  guess  you  can  teach  those  fellows  a  few 
tricks  yet,  Senator.  I'd  like  to  see  the  chap  can 
teach  you  anything — humph,  Senator,  he  ain't 
been  born." 

"  It's  hard  to  be  compelled  to  expect  nothing 
except  fraud  and  knavery,  nevertheless,"  the  Sen 
ator  complained.  "  I  have  to  depend  a  great  deal 
on  men's  words.  Now,  if  I  can  accept  what  the 
boys  personally  promise  me,  there  won't  be  any 
trouble  to  speak  of  about  my  getting  the  indorse 
ment  of  the  Convention.  But  I  have  to  take  it  on 
credit,  and  some  of  the  boys  may  go  back  on  me." 
He  shook  his  head. 

"  Pshaw,  Senator,  cheer  up,"  Bissell  said  reas 
suringly;  "  you've  lost  less  from  that  cause  in  poli- 

162 


The   Mills   of  Man 

tics  than  any  man  I  know.  When  the  fellers  tell 
you  a  thing,  usually  it  sticks.  You've  got  a  way 
with  you,  you  know.  Come,  you  needn't  look  so 
injured,  I'm  not  jollying;  I'm  telling  you  God's 
truth." 

"  I  hope  so,  I  hope  so,"  replied  the  Senator 
with  unction,  "  as  much  for  their  sake  as  my  own. 
It  always  comes  as  a  shock  to  me  to  meet  with  the 
perfidious  side  of  human  nature;  old  as  I  am,  I 
never  have  gotten  used  to  it." 

'  Yes,  you're  an  innocent,  you  are,  Senator," 
laughed  Bissell.  "  And  when  you  get  down  to 
brass  tacks,  I  guess  you've  suffered  less  from 
treachery  than  any  man  I  know  in  public  life. 
You've  no  cause  to  be  cynical  concerning  your 
friends,  Senator."  And  Bissell  actually  winked. 
;'  Well,  I  guess  you  will  pull  through.  When  you 
croak  with  an  injured  air,  I  always  know  you're 
fixed  pretty  much  all  right." 

Although  for  the  Convention  week  the  head 
quarters  of  the  Cook  County  Republican  Club 
were  next  Senator  Dawes,  the  seat  of  power  re 
mained  in  its  accustomed  quarters  in  a  back  room 
off  McMahon's  saloon  in  Clark  street,  just  in  the 
rear  of  "  The  Obelisk."  There,  ordinarily,  any 
"  worker  "  might  get  audiences  with  the  Boss  any 
day.  In  that  little  dingy  room  he  sat  almost  every 
week  day  in  the  year  from  eleven  o'clock  to  four, 

163 


The   Mills   of  Man 

when  he  left  to  drive  his  fast  pair  of  trotters  until 
he  went  home  to  dinner  and  to  Gretchen.  There 
his  cold  luncheon  was  served  to  him,  and,  while 
he  ate,  he  listened. 

A  low  black  desk  separated  him  from  his  call 
ers;  behind  it  he  sat  in  a  stuffed  cushioned  chair 
and  chewed  a  fat  cigar.  He  seldom  opened  his 
mouth  except  to  question  sharply;  commonly  he 
preferred  to  nod  his  willingness  or  his  refusal. 
The  men  who  came  in  "  to  see  the  old  man  "  stood 
in  awe;  their  genial  Boss  was  strictly  "  bizness  " 
during  business  hours.  He  was  "  the  chief,"  a 
heavy-jowled,  thick-eyebrowed  man,  with  close-cut 
black  hair,  bull  neck  and  amorphous  countenance, 
who  heard  reports  impatiently,  yet  attentively, 
and  issued  orders  that  were  as  dictatorial  as  they 
were  explicit.  There  were  no  appeals  from  Mc- 
Bride. 

Not  only  orders  but  at  times  much  money,  it 
was  understood,  passed  across  that  low  black  desk, 
the  money  in  the  reverse  direction  from  the  orders. 
McBride  was  noted  not  only  for  the  close  grip  he 
kept  upon  the  personelle  of  the  organization,  but 
for  his  personal  and  irresponsible  handling  of  the 
revenues.  Men  known  to  a  portion  of  the  public, 
but  not  necessarily  to  the  politicians,  frequently 
slipped  into  the  back  room  and  paid  down  in  coin 
(McBride  would  accept  no  checks)  tithes  from 
gaming  places  and  from  brothels. 

164 


The  Mills  of  Man 

A  door  and  entry  separated  the  back  room 
from  the  rear  of  the  saloon.  Sometimes  it  was 
open,  sometimes  shut;  but  in  the  entry  always  a 
Cerberus  was  on  guard.  He  was  a  grizzled,  ro 
tund,  common  creature,  but  gifted  with  the  im 
agination  of  the  Celt.  A  long  consorting  with 
politicians  had  supplied  him  with  a  curious  knowl 
edge,  so  that  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  pre 
cincts  he  had  become  a  shrewd  critic  of  men  and 
affairs.  Moreover,  his  was  not  a  humorous  im 
agination;  he  took  the  whole  thing  as  seriously  as 
if  he  had  been  a  judge  upon  the  bench. 

He  knew  whom  to  admit  at  once  and  whom  to 
hinder;  he  knew  the  moods  and  habits  of  his 
master,  and  "  workers  "  knew  he  was  worth  as 
siduous  cultivation. 

"  The  statesmen,"  he  announced  to  a  new  ward 
lieutenant,  who  had  not  yet  "  arrived,"  and  hence 
needed  some  instruction,  "  the  statesmen,  young 
feller,  are  just  now  in  solemn  council  behind  this 
here  door.  All  the  big  bugs  of  the  organization, 
I  want  you  to  understand,  are  conferrin'  with  the 
Boss  himself.  If  you'se  was  in  there  now  you'd 
hear  enough  political  wisdom  to  set  Ireland  free. 
They  have  heads,  them  fellers.  Some  are  alder 
men  in  the  City  Hall,  and  they  know  a  heap  about 
government,  I'm  tellin'  you.  Sometimes  I  get  a 
whiff  myself  of  what's  doin'  through  a  crack,  and 
I  want  to  say,  young  feller,  they  will  compare 

165 


The   Mills   of  Man 

favorably  with  the  debates  in  the  Congress  of  the 
United  States. 

'  You  want  to  know  what  I  think  about  how 
the  Convention  is  a-comin'  out — you  want  to 
know,  do  you?  Well,  them  yaps  up  here  from 
Egypt,  they  may  have  the  thinks,  but  thinks,  I'm 
tellin'  you,  won't  organize  no  convention  where 
Mr.  McBride's  a-sittin'  in.  Them  yaps'll  realize 
before  they  get  enough  that  they're  up  against 
trained  statesmen,  when  they  set  out  to  buck  the 
Cook  County  organization,  I'm  tellin'  you." 


166 


XVIII 

THE  CONVENTION  HALL 

MRS.  CORLiS  and  her  uncle,  Mr.  Jarrett, 
had  seats  upon  the  platform  in  the  Con 
vention  hall. 

The  platform,  like  a  promontory  which  half 
cuts  a  lake  in  two,  commanded  the  whole  audi 
torium.  Before  it  lay  the  pit,  a  flat  oval,  in  which 
the  chairs  of  the  delegates  were  ranged.  Behind 
it,  and  enveloping  its  sides,  extended  a  plateau 
whereon  the  desks  of  newspaper  correspond 
ents  and  reporters  were  set,  as  well  as  many 
benches  for  favored  spectators.  Round  about  the 
entire  hall,  in  steep  terraces  up  to  the  very  roof, 
circled  the  galleries  for  the  people,  some  fifteen 
thousand  seats. 

The  platform  itself  was  broad.  Its  most  con 
spicuous  feature  was  furnished  by  the  thick,  hard 
wood  table,  without  cloth  or  ornament,  which 
was  centrally  placed  in  front.  Behind  the  table 
extended  a  row  of  capacious  leather  chairs  and  be 
hind  the  row,  in  turn,  were  the  seats  of  honor,  a 
score  or  two. 

Mrs.  Corlis  from  her  place  of  vantage  on  the 
platform  could  sweep  the  house.  As  usual,  she 

167 


The   Mills   of  Man 

achieved  a  picturesque  effect,  and  people  won 
dered  who  she  was  until  they  guessed  that  she 
could  be  no  one  else,  of  course,  than  the  daughter 
of  their  Senator,  the  niece  of  J.  J.  J.,  the  wife  of 
W.  H.  D.  Corlis. 

The  galleries  were  packed,  for  the  newspapers 
had  exploited  the  three-cornered  fight,  and  all  Chi 
cago  talked  of  nothing  else,  and  made  bets  as  to 
the  outcome.  The  galleries  cheered  their  heroes, 
applauded  the  band,  cracked  jokes  and  ate  pea 
nuts.  The  convention  was  a  minstrel  show,  plus 
grand  opera,  for  them. 

A  thousand  and  more  delegates  sat  crowded  to 
gether  within  the  oval  arena.  The  aisles  between 
the  grand  divisions  of  space  were  themselves  nar 
row,  so  that  nothing  distinguished  the  delegations 
from  the  different  counties  except  the  slim  poles 
which  bore  aloft  the  placards  announcing  the  re 
spective  county  names.  Besides  such  official  stand 
ards,  there  were  here  and  there  other  poles  and 
placards  which  presented,  in  big,  black  letters, 
mottoes  and  sentiments,  generally  a  proclamation, 
sometimes  a  challenge,  perhaps  a  taunt. 

For  example,  to  the  left  of  the  platform,  where 
in  deep  array  sat  the  Cook  County  men,  a  big 
square  transparency  twirled  above  their  heads  ex 
hibited  successively  four  sides:  "  Regular  Organ 
ization  "—  "McBride  "— "  Cook  County  Repub 
lican  Club  "— "  We  Swallow  Jonah."  Above  the 

168 


The   Mills   of  Man 

transparency  itself,  upon  the  end  of  the  pole,  was 
stack  a  gilded  whale  with  a  wide  mouth,  open. 
The  device  was  supposed  to  signify  to  intelligent 
observers  that  the  loyalty  for  which  the  "  Ma 
chine  "  was  noted  pledged  anticipatively  its  sup 
port  to  the  Convention's  choice,  however  distaste 
ful  that  choice  might  prove. 

The  delegates  upon  the  right  marshaled  them 
selves  under  a  simply  framed  canvas,  lettered  on 
both  sides  so  plainly  that  the  topmost  gallery 
might  read:  "  Egypt  " — "  Restore  Silver  to  Its 
Rights."  Erected  alongside  this  canvas  was  a  flat 
transparency  purporting  to  constitute  a  portrait. 
Underneath  appeared:  "Governor  Randolph 
Ransom." 

In  the  center,  the  station  of  the  middle  and 
upper  counties  of  the  state,  two  ornamental  pla 
cards  were  conspicuously  upreared.  One  was  a 
daub,  inscribed,  "  The  Grand  Old  Man  of  Illi 
nois."  The  second  likewise  was  a  daub,  under 
written,  "  Your  Uncle  Simeon."  Unquestionably 
the  purpose  of  each  sorry  proclamation  was  to 
glorify  the  same  leader. 

The  galleries  had  applauded  each  standard 
as  the  respective  delegations  marched  into  the  hall. 
Governor  Ransom's  photograph  received  some 
applause,  but  the  Silver  placard  immediately 
following  was  greeted  with  hisses  and  hoots. 
The  agricultural  delineations  of  Senator  Dawes 

169 


The  Mills  of  Man 

elicited  some  cheering  of  a  rather  perfunc 
tory  sort.  But  first  sight  of  the  gilded  whale  set 
the  enthusiasm  loose.  The  Cook  County  Machine 
tramped  in,  the  redoubtable  McBride  himself  at 
the  head.  He  strode  along  unmoved  under  that 
hail  of  cheers,  the  great  black  head  of  him  held 
squarely,  no  smile  upon  his  powerful  face.  He 
plumped  into  his  seat,  the  first  next  the  aisle  on 
the  platform's  left,  and  looked  about  unconcern 
edly,  exchanging  a  remark  or  two  with  Mayor 
Timothy  Murphy,  who  filled  the  next  chair. 

The  galleries  were  packed  with  Cook  County 
Machine  sympathizers,  it  was  clear.  That  had 
been  a  feature  of  the  scheme  of  Corlis  and  Mc 
Bride,  when  they  had  captured  the  State  Central 
Committee  a  year  ago,  and  were  thereby  enabled 
to  name  Chicago  as  the  Convention  city.  The 
Cook  men,  as  hosts  having  charge  of  the  arrange 
ments,  controlled  the  distribution  of  the  tickets  of 
admission.  They  had  been  allotted  in  blocks  to 
the  ward  leaders,  with  orders  to  have  contingents 
of  shouters  present.  That  the  contingents  were 
present  for  duty  was  plain. 

Mrs.  Corlis  surveyed  the  scene  through  her 
glass,  studying  with  some  intentness  the  several 
features.  Beside  her,  his  head  not  much  above 
her  shoulder,  sat  J.  J.  J.  His  dark  eyes,  under 
half-closed,  heavy  lids,  had  a  far-away  look;  yet 

170 


The   Mills   of  Man 

to  have  supposed  that  he  missed  anything  would 
have  been  a  sad  mistake. 

"  Vicky,"  he  rumbled  in  his  deep  voice,  "  lend 
me  a  quarter.  You  always  have  money  to  burn 
and  1  haven't  a  scurvy  copper.  I'm  thirsty,  and 
I'm  going  out  and  get  a  glass  of  beer.  I'll  be 
right  back." 

When  he  returned,  he  settled  deeply  into  his- 
seat. 

"  Vicky,"  he  said  with  a  little  chuckle,  "  Vicky, 
we're  going  to  see  a  lot  of  human  nature,  regen 
erate  and  unregenerate,  before  we  get  through. 
Those  galleries  up  there  think  they've  some  to  da 
with  it,  and  those  gentlemen,  the  delegates,  think 
they  decide.  But  the  Bosses,  they'll  run  the  dele 
gates  ;  that  you'll  see.  Who  runs  the  Bosses,  you 
won't  see.  But,  since  you  always  like  to  know, 
I'll  give  you  the  tip.  Your  old  Uncle  Johnny, 
sitting  back  here  unnoticed;  you  must  always 
count  him  one,  when  anything  is  doing.  It  always 
has  been  so;  it's  going  to  be  the  same  here  now. 
As  they  say  in  the  West,  watch  my  smoke,  Vicky." 

But  the  Convention  hummed  importantly,  as  if 
its  master  were  not  watching  it.  And  the  unknown 
master  moodily  looked  on — saw  galleries  go  wild, 
saw  delegations  with  their  heads  together,  saw 
politicians  busy  and  important,  saw  McBride 
chewing  a  toothpick  masterfully,  saw  Senator 
Dawes  revolving  in  his  mind  sentences  to  sway  the 

171 


The   Mills   of  Man 

assembly,  saw  Corlis  smiling  in  his  own  conceit. 
And  the  master,  one  of  that  new  American  breed 
of  world  masters  who  have  succeeded  grand 
seignior,  war-lord,  orator  and  parliamentarian — 
he  blinked  and  yawned  a  little,  and  sought,  with 
covert  hand,  the  fingers  of  his  niece,  happy  be 
cause  he  had  her  company  assured  to  him  for 
hours,  and  because  he  was  certain  that  the  Con 
vention  would  gratify  her  pride. 

The  Chairman  of  the  State  Central  Committee, 
exercising  the  prerogative  of  his  place,  raised  the 
heavy  wooden  mallet  and  brought  it  down  upon 
the  hardwood  table.  The  blow  not  only  dented 
the  tough  grain,  but  called  the  Convention  to  or 
der.  It  was  just  twenty-six  minutes  before  noon. 

The  Convention  came  speedily  to  order.  Every 
one  had  been  waiting  for  nearly  two  hours,  time 
enough  to  reduce  their  restlessness  and  assure 
their  subordination. 

After  some  brief  formalities  the  Chairman 
named  for  Temporary  Chairman  of  the  Conven 
tion,  Senator  Simeon  E.  Dawes.  A  roar  greeted 
the  announcement.  It  was  vociferous  in  the  center 
of  the  Convention  and  perfunctory  from  the  Cook 
County  men,  except  for  the  knot  of  reformers, 
some  sixty  strong,  who  represented  the  "better  ele 
ment  "  minority  of  Chicago.  As  for  Egypt,  she 
sat  sullen. 

While  it  is  customary  for  conventions  to  accept 
172 


The   Mills   of  Man 

the  nominee  of  the  party  committee  for  Tempo 
rary  Chairman,  there  are  occasions  when  a  strong 
opposition  to  the  faction  in  control  of  the  Commit 
tee  has  shown  fight  at  once  and  elected  to  test  re 
spective  strengths  at  the  outset.  Would  the  "  Sil- 
verites,"  the  delegates  from  Egypt,  put  up  a  can 
didate  against  Senator  Dawes,  who  had  obviously 
been  named  by  the  new  Dawes-McBride-Corlis 
combination? 

True,  the  Egyptians  sulked,  but  Governor  Ran 
som  gave  no  sign.  He  sat  at  the  head  of  his  co 
horts  on  the  right  of  the  platform.  His  arms 
were  folded  and  his  head  was  bowed;  he  did  not 
look  up. 

It  was  moved,  seconded  and  carried  that  the 
vote  of  the  Convention  as  a  whole  be  cast  for  Sen 
ator  Dawes  as  Temporary  Chairman.  There  was 
no  dissent. 

b'  Is  this  here  Convention  going  to  pan  out  a 
regular  love-feast,  a  four-flush  thunder  storm?" 
inquired  a  disgusted  delegate  of  his  neighbor. 

'  The  combination  has  shown  its  hand  and 
Ransom  don't  dare  call  it,  even.  He  always  was 
a  first-class  bluff,  and  what  we'd  better  be  doing  is 
getting  into  the  band-wagon  before  all  the  seats 
are  gone."  Thus  commented  a  shrewd  political 
trough-feeder  from  middle  Illinois. 

u  Guess  it's  all  settled  and  we  can  go  home. 
'  Uncle  Simeon  '  for  senator  and  some  Chicago 

173 


The  Mills  of  Man 

silk-stockin'  for  governor — that's  the  bill.  Never 
seen  good  intentions  beat  out  money  yet."  So  sur 
mised  a  weak-kneed  Silverite,  who  had  bent  before 
the  storm  before  he  got  into  the  Convention,  and 
proposed  to  bend  to  another  now  that  he  had 
crawled  in  on  his  belly. 

The  Chairman  of  the  State  Central  Committee 
presented  Senator  Simeon  E.  Dawes  to  the  Con 
vention.  The  Temporary  Chairman  received  an 
ovation,  as  the  newspapers  reported  it  next  morn 
ing.  The  galleries  got  up;  McBride  led  the  dem 
onstration  of  the  Cook  County  men;  northern  and 
middle  Illinois  saluted  with  enthusiasm  their  old 
leader.  Governor  Ransom  himself  was  on  his 
feet,  according  his  one-time  chief  a  dignified  recog 
nition.  Egypt,  at  Ransom's  back,  cheered  the 
man  for  the  sake  of  the  past,  but  their  cheers  had 
a  formal  ring. 

Mrs.  Corlis  was  standing  on  her  chair,  her 
Uncle  Johnny  upon  his. 

"Ain't  it  grand?"  he  shouted  in  her  ear. 
"  Five  minutes  by  the  watch.  He's  a  grand  old 
Roman.  It  takes  Americans  to  yell  like  this." 

They  yelled  for  "  Uncle  Simeon,"  for  "  The 
Grand  Old  Man;"  in  a  lull,  some  one  cried  for 
"  Illinois'  Grand  Uncle,"  and  a  laugh  went  up 
amid  the  cheers.  They  were  in  dead  earnest  and 
in  roaring  farce  at  the  same  time.  Men,  who  were 
screaming  in  genuine  admiration  for  the  Senator, 

174 


The  Mills   of  Man 

winked  an  off  eye  at  a  neighbor,  as  if  to  say,  "  We 
mean  it,  by  hookey,  but  we  do.  Can't  we  just 
make  cussed  asses  of  ourselves,  though?"  The 
neighbor,  he  winked  back,  "Let  her  loose,  Bill; 
throw  her  wide  open;  it's  a  mighty  good  excuse 
for  being  boys  again." 

Mrs.  Corlis,  on  her  chair,  caught  the  infection 
of  the  multitude.  She  wanted  to  laugh  and  to  cry. 
She  would  have  thrown  them  kisses  to  thank  them 
for  their  fervor  and  then  have  urged  them  into  it 
— "Go  it,  go  it,  good  fellows,  go  it!" — in  the 
same  fashion  men  "  sic  "  dogs  into  a  fight. 

The  cheering  suddenly  died  down.  The  gal 
leries  relapsed  into  spectators.  The  delegates, 
having  "  let  off  steam,"  coolly  grinned  at  one 
another  and  sat  themselves  down,  at  first  in 
patches,  then  in  blocks,  and  finally  in  toto.  They 
looked  inordinately  pleasant,  as  if  in  the  second 
stage  of  contemplation  of  a  good  joke. 

Senator  Dawes,  as  is  the  custom,  addressed  the 
Convention  before  he  assumed  the  performance  of 
the  duties  of  Temporary  Chairman.  He  was  a 
type  of  a  great  past,  the  last  representative,  per 
haps,  of  the  men  who  had  fought  the  Civil  War 
for  the  preservation  of  the  Union.  He  was  rugged 
old  Cromwellian  timber,  inlaid  with  Jeffersonian 
tolerance  and  smoothed  at  the  edges  with  modern 
humanism.  An  old-fashioned  dignity  sat  on  his 
gaunt  frame;  the  authoritativeness  of  the  old 

'/" 


The   Mills   of  Man 

style  lawyer  and  preacher  informed  his  delivery. 
His  speech  was  studded  with  homely  quaintnesses 
and  colloquialisms  of  the  farm,  yet,  originally,  he 
must  have  moulded  his  orations  on  classic  models, 
on  Hamilton  and  Webster. 

It  was  an  able  speech,  sufficiently  eloquent;  still 
more,  it  was  an  adroit  speech,  consummately  tact 
ful.  It  appealed  to  the  past  and  the  party's 
former  glories,  and  the  stalwart  body  of  the  con 
vention  asked  for  nothing  more.  Present  ques 
tions  were  ingenuously  ignored  and  "  burning 
issues  "  glossed.  Silver  was  not  once  mentioned. 
Practically  it  was  a  plea  for  party  regularity  and 
that  with  the  least  disturbance  of  dangerous  sub 
jects.  It  was  the  brief  presented  in  behalf  of  those 
in  office  who  desired  perpetuity  and  immunity 
from  worry.  It  illustrated  one  truth,  despite 
itself,  that  no  man  can  live  vitally  in  other  than 
his  own  generation. 


176 


XIX 

THE  PERMANENT  CHAIRMAN 

THE  sun  rays,  entering  by  the  western  win 
dows  high  up  in  the  wall,  by  the  time  Sen 
ator  Dawes  had  finished  his  address  fell  at 
an  acute  angle  with  the  Convention  floor.    The  ra 
diance  formed  an  obscurity  of  golden  dust,  flam 
ing  against  the  eastern  galleries  after  traversing  in 
long  lights  the  body  of  the  hall. 

Under  this  haze  and  glory,  this  illuminated 
obscuration,  the  Convention  settled  itself  seriously 
to  business,  or  attempted  to  do  so.  For  expecta 
tion  electrified  the  air.  The  word  somehow  had 
crept  about  that  Egypt  meant  to  fight  when  the 
time  had  come  to  choose  a  Permanent  Chairman. 
Ransom,  it  was  whispered,  had  been  reluctant 
openly  to  oppose  his  old  chief,  or  to  refuse  him 
the  complimentary  honor  of  the  Temporary  Chair 
manship.  But  the  matter  of  the  Permanent  Chair 
manship  appeared  to  the  Governor  in  another 
light;  the  contest  for  it  would  constitute  a  trial 
of  strengths,  and  to  secure  it  would  be  to  gain  an 
advantage  in  the  organization  of  the  Convention, 
which  would  insure  the  power  of  appointment  to 
the  committees. 

177 


The   Mills   of  Man 

Senator  Dawes  declared  the  Convention  open 
to  nominations  for  the  office  of  Permanent  Chair 
man. 

Instantly  a  delegate  was  up,  demanding  recog 
nition.  In  twenty  words  he  presented  the  name 
of  Governor  Randolph  Ransom  of  Clay  County. 
But  Egypt  did  not  cheer — what  applause  there 
was  came  desultorily  from  scattered  Silver  men  in 
the  center  ranks.  The  mercurial  galleries,  even, 
felt  the  grimness  of  this  mute  reception  of  their 
leader's  name  by  the  Silver  delegates.  Yet  Ran 
som  and  not  another  had  been  put  forward  in 
order  to  pick  up  every  vote  possible  and  make  a 
show  for  Silver  at  the  very  outset. 

Half  a  minute  later  State  Senator  Brady  arose 
amid  the  Chicago  men.  He  secured  the  Chair 
man's  recognition,  despite  a  score  of  delegates 
who  were  demanding  it.  The  Convention  noted 
the  collusion.  Brady  had  a  bull's  throat  and  a 
voice  like  a  trumpet;  moreover,  he  was  notori 
ously  the  official  megaphone  of  McBride. 

Quiet  greeted  him;  delegates  and  galleries 
strained  to  hear  whose  name  he  would  pronounce. 
He  loved  to  talk,  but  he  had  the  Boss's  order  to 
"  cut  it  mighty  short."  He  spoke  two  hundred 
words  and  placed  in  nomination  the  name  of  Wal 
ter  H.  D.  Corlis  of  Cook  County. 

The  Machine  "  let  loose  "  a  yell,  and  the 
packed  galleries  howled  approval.  Egypt  ex- 

178 


The   Mills   of  Man 

hibited  the  excitement  of  surprise,  and  the  lean 
Ransom  walked  about,  advising  with  this  lieuten 
ant  and  with  that.  Upper  Illinois  was  "  left 
guessing;"  it  was  clear  the  Chicago  Traction  mag 
nate  had  been  "  sprung  "  on  them.  They  did  not 
relish  the  nomination  unqualifiedly,  but  they  had 
witnessed  their  chiefs  arbitrary  recognition  of 
Senator  Brady,  and  now  Crawford,  Wood  and 
Johnson  were  busily  passing  the  word  that  it  was 
understood  Cook  County  was  to  have  the  Perma 
nent  Chairmanship;  consequently,  the  bulk  of  the 
conservative  stalwarts  sat  in  stolid  acquiescence. 

The  Chairman  ordered  the  Convention  to  a  bal 
lot.  Some  delay  in  preparing  for  it  ensued,  and, 
meantime,  discussions  broke  out  everywhere. 

The  division  on  the  coming  ballot  meant  a 
square  issue  between  the  two  ends  of  the  state, 
Egypt  and  Chicago.  Each  had  named  the  man 
after  its  own  heart.  The  question  was,  for  whom 
would  the  majority  of  the  remainder  of  the  state, 
comprising,  in  whole,  between  one-third  and  one- 
half  of  the  delegates,  elect  to  cast  their  votes? 

Men  generally  accepted  as  "  correct  "  the  re 
port  of  the  new  "  combine  "  between  Boss  Mc- 
Bride  and  "  Uncle  Simeon,"  and  regarded  the 
nomination  of  W.  H.  D.  Corlis,  the  political 
"  angel  "  of  the  former,  and  the  son-in-law  of  the 
latter,  as  confirming  the  same.  Therefore,  it  was 
inferred,  the  Senator's  entire  strength  would  be 

179 


The   Mills   of  Man 

given  to  Corlis.   What  was  the  Senator's  strength? 
That  constituted  the  unknown  factor. 

Governor  Ransom,  who  had  his  enemies,  also 
had  his  friends  in  all  parts  and  in  unsuspected 
quarters.  Outside  Egypt  the  number  of  those  who 
loved  him  well  exceeded  the  number  of  those  who 
would  accept  the  gospel  of  Free  Silver  at  his  hands 
— to  what  extent?  In  other  words,  what  propor 
tion  of  his  enormous  personal  following  would 
support  him  now?  Such  was  the  "figuring"  by 
shrewd  forecasters. 

Sharing  in  the  general  restlessness  of  this  inter 
val,  Mrs.  Corlis  left  her  seat  to  Uncle  Johnny's 
care,  stepped  oft"  the  platform  to  the  newspaper 
plateau,  and  made  her  way  to  a  desk  occupied  by 
Chris  Ruggles.  The  reporter  she  found  tapping 
his  pencil  nervously  upon  the  desk  and  looking  off 
across  the  shifting  groups,  quite  oblivious  of  her 
near  approach. 

Her  shadow  fell  upon  him,  and  recognizing 
her,  he  got  upon  his  feet.  A  warm  wave  of  min 
gled  pleasure  and  embarrassment  suffused  his  hon 
est  face. 

"  Chris,"  she  said  directly,  aware  of  what  little 
time  the  reporter  at  this  moment  might  have  to 
spare,  "which  is  Governor  Ransom?  I  have  not 
seen  him  for  over  fifteen  years,  and  I  want  to  rec 
ognize  him." 

Ruggles  sought  to  point  him  out. 
1 80 


The   Mills   of  Man 

"  I  don't  see  him  just  this  moment,  Mrs.  Cor- 
lis.  You  can't  mistake  him,  though.  He's  a  tall 
man,  slim  as  a  pole,  with  a  small  head,  thin, 
high  features,  and  what  I've  heard  politicians 
style  the  eyes  of  old  Nick  himself.  Sometimes  he 
has  the  manners  of  a  Kentucky  colonel  and  at 
others  those  of  a  steamboat  roustabout." 

She  smiled. 

'  You  are  vivid  in  description,  Chris.  But  I'm 
taking  your  attention  and  you  need  it  at  this 
time." 

"  No,"  he  replied,  "  I  haven't  a  thing  to  do 
until  the  ballot  is  announced."  The  while  his 
glance  continued  to  search  for  the  Governor  among 
the  confused  mass  on  the  floor. 

"  I  have  heard  his  oaths  are  famous,"  Mrs. 
Corlis  talked  on.  "  He  used  to  come  to  the  house 
when  I  was  a  girl  at  home.  I  remember  he  always 
made  me  think  of  a  walking-stick,  stuck  on  with 
a  head — you  know  what  1  mean — and  he  had 
grand  manners  then,  at  least  when  ladies  were 
about.  But  he  chewed  tobacco."  She  came  to  a 
dead  stop,  as  if  the  last  fact  had  occasioned  some 
conclusion  in  her  mind,  as  it  might  have  in  her 
life. 

But  Chris  did  not  seem  to  have  noticed;  so 
presently  she  added, 

"  My  father  used  to  say  he  had  the  best  politi- 
181 


The   Mills   of  Man 

cal  brains  in  the  state,  and  he  was  barely  thirty 
then." 

"  He  has  them  still,  I  guess,"  rejoined  Rug- 
gles,  "  though  he  is  a  rather  low  order  of  poli 
tician,  I  suppose.  But  there  he  is  now — see  him? 
He's  standing  up — he's  six  feet  and  over — you 
can't  miss  him,  he  looks  so  unlike  other  men.  But 
the  voting  has  begun." 

"  Good-by  and  thank  you,  Chris.  When  you 
have  time,  come  over  to  me,  please;  I  want  Mr. 
Jarrett,  my  uncle,  to  know  you." 

Mrs.  Corlis,  as  she  turned  to  retrace  her  steps 
to  her  seat,  noticed  a  tall  young  woman,  who  had 
just  come  up,  staring  at  her.  Somehow,  too,  she 
felt  the  tall  young  woman's  eyes  in  her  back,  as 
she  walked  away.  When  she  had  gotten  as  far 
as  the  platform,  curiosity  caused  her  to  look  back. 
The  young  woman  was  bending  over  the  reporter, 
imperiousness  in  her  mien,  it  appeared  to  Mrs. 
Corlis.  She  surmised,  "  She  must  be  the  guardian 
angel  Walter  mentioned." 

Throughout  the  balloting,  Mrs.  Corlis,  sitting 
by  J.  J.  J.'s  side,  strangely  ignored  the  excitement 
as  to  the  outcome,  to  wonder  concerning  the  young 
woman.  Used  to  distinguish  types  as  she  was, 
she  was  impressed;  she  fancied  she  had  hardly 
seen  anywhere  a  more  striking-looking  creature. 
Naturally,  extreme  height  alone  rendered  Rug- 
gles'  friend  conspicuous;  but,  Mrs.  Corlis  de- 

182 


The  Mills  of  Man 

cided,  her  long  lines  of  limb  and  body  possessed 
original  grace,  while  the  pale  gold  hair  and  the 
large,  clear-cut  features  were  after  the  manner 
of  some  fighting  young  man-saint.  Mrs.  Corlis 
was  reaching  for  a  succinct  comparison.  What 
most  interested  her,  however,  was  the  jealousy 
candidly  confessed  by  the  keen  gray  eyes,  and  the 
general  disapproval  the  scornfully  noble  face  had 
shown. 

"  So  that's  her,"  Card  Brown  said  to  Ruggles. 
"  And  you  think  she  is  just  all  right,  don't  you?  " 

"  I  do  admire  her,"  replied  the  reporter  sturd 
ily,  but  without  looking  up  from  his  desk. 

Card  flushed,  then  laughed  a  note  or  two. 

"  Your  aristocrat — I  suppose  you'd  let  her  walk 
on  you.  Condescending  notice  from  a  queen  is 
what  flatters  all  you  men." 

Ruggles  bent  lower  over  his  paper. 

"  Don't  talk  absurdly,  Card,"  he  muttered  in 
displeasure.  He  began  to  compute  the  votes  for 
Permanent  Chairman  as  they  were  announced. 

On  the  roll-call  Cook  County  near  the  top  cast 
practically  a  solid  vote  for  Corlis,  all  but  a  minor 
ity  of  the  "  better  element "  finding  themselves 
able  to  support  the  very  respectable  candidate  of 
the  Machine.  The  middle  counties,  especially 
those  of  the  northern  tier,  exhibited  a  decided 
preference  for  the  Chicago  man,  but  the  southern 
counties  lined  up  solidly  for  the  Governor,  while 

183 


The   Mills  of  Man 

unexpected  votes  were  recorded  for  the  latter  from 
counties  supposed  to  be  "  rock-ribbed  and  copper- 
bottomed  "  in  the  interest  of  the  Senator. 

The  ballot  had  not  been  completed,  however, 
before  it  became  certain  that  Corlis  was  the  Con 
vention's  choice,  although  by  no  very  superfluous 
margin.  When  finally  announced,  the  ballot 
stood : 

For  W.   H.   D.   Corlis 577  votes 

For  Randolph  Ransom 493   votes 

Scattering   117  votes 

The  victory  was  soberly  applauded,  both  by 
McBride's  men  and  by  stalwart  conservatives, 
whose  alliance  had  secured  it.  The  defeat  in 
flicted  upon  Ransom  was  not  sufficiently  substan 
tial  to  render  certain  the  outcome  either  in  the 
matter  of  platform  or  of  the  ticket.  For  Corlis 
had  not  received  an  actual  majority  of  the  vote  of 
the  Convention.  If  Chicago  had  thrown  her  full 
strength  to  him,  Egypt  had  about  balanced  the 
preponderance  by  plumping  for  Ransom,  while 
the  division  in  the  remainder  of  the  state  showed 
that  Senator  Dawes  had  hardly  held  his  own;  that 
the  constituencies,  which  once  had  been  his  prop 
erty  without  reservation,  were  affected  in  a  meas 
ure  by  the  Governor's  attraction. 

Either  such  was  the  case  or  the  game  was  more 
intricate  than  appeared  upon  the  surface.  To  be 
sure,  it  was  just  possible  the  hundred  odd  votes 

184 


The   Mills   of  Man 

counted  as  "  scattering,"  had  been  fired  as  blank 
cartridges,  so  to  speak,  on  order.  Possibly  the 
"  combination  "  did  not  desire  thus  early  to  indi 
cate  the  full  strength  they  could  muster.  These 
were  but  speculations  on  the  part  of  some  very 
shrewd  observers. 

Shadows  reached  forth  from  the  corners  of  the 
hall,  and  dimness  already  hung  under  the  high 
arch  of  the  lofty  ceiling.  Sunset  flung  a  red  blotch 
of  color  on  the  platform,  staining  with  its  glow 
the  main  actors  on  that  stage. 

W.  H.  D.  Corlis  bowed  with  a  prolonged  grace 
to  the  assembly,  when  Senator  Dawes  had  intro 
duced  him  as  the  Permanent  Chairman  of  the 
Convention.  His  speech  was  brief  and  read  from 
manuscript — itself  evidence  of  how  long  prepared 
had  been  the  plan  of  the  "  combine."  His  deep 
voice,  however,  possessed  no  compass — he  could 
not  be  heard  twenty  feet  away,  and  he  did  well  to 
"  cut  it  short." 

Nevertheless,  he  created  a  most  favorable  im 
pression.  Somehow  from  the  moment  he  assumed 
the  gavel,  matters  ran  smoothly.  His  dignity  was 
felt,  also  his  affability.  He  was  smilingly  firm, 
yet  he  tactfully  let  the  Convention  see  that  he  felt 
himself  their  servant  and  that  his  consideration 
could  be  invoked  by  every  man  and  faction.  A 
convention  is  like  a  horse.  It  responds  to  the 
rider  who  is  both  gentle  and  firm-seated. 

185 


The   Mills  of  Man 

Mrs.  Corlis,  watching,  thrilled  with  pride.  Her 
husband's  easy  domination  was  a  thing  of  so  much 
fascination — shall  it  be  said,  of  so  much  beauty. 
After  all,  she  thought,  echoing  his  opinion,  the 
democracy  recognizes  readily  in  the  true  aristo 
crat,  when  he  is  presented  them,  their  natural 
leader. 

Card  Brown,  in  another  quarter,  likewise  seemed 
fascinated  by  that  figure,  the  protagonist  for  the 
time.  Her  eyes  repeatedly,  despite  her  will,  were 
drawn  back  to  him,  and  two  deep  lines  cleft  her 
brows.  The  while  her  nostrils  played  at  each 
short  intaking  and  expulsion  of  her  breath — the 
play  that  denoted  hate  or  fear. 

Ruggles,  observing  her  at  intervals  and  half- 
displeased  still,  said  sarcastically, 

"  You  seem  to  like  an  aristocrat  some  yourself, 
Card.  No  doubt  Mr.  Corlis,  to  women,  looks 
very  attractive,  doesn't  he?  " 

She  shuddered,  just  perceptibly,  and  it  cost  her 
some  slight  effort,  seemingly,  to  detach  her  gaze 
from  Corlis. 

"  Is  evil  possibly  beautiful?  "  she  asked,  as  in  a 
daze. 

"  Evil  doers  seem  to  find  it  so,"  moralistic 
Chris  responded  quite  at  random. 

Card's  cheeks  blanched  to  ashes;  but  her  ob 
tuse  companion  was  leaning  forward  to  catch  the 
developments  of  the  Convention. 

1 86 


XX 

ABDICATION 

AFTER  making  up  the  Committee  on  Cre 
dentials  and  the  Committee  on  Resolutions, 
the  Convention  forthwith  adjourned,  to 
meet  at  ten  o'clock  the  next  morning.  The  Com 
mittee  on  Resolutions  was  expected  to  construct  the 
platform  overnight  and  report  back  to  the  Con 
vention  next  day.  The  platform  would  enunciate 
the  principles  upon  which  the  party  would  go  be 
fore  the  people  of  the  state. 

That  night,  after  eleven  o'clock,  in  the  inside 
room  of  the  headquarters  of  Senator  Dawes,  a  con 
ference  was  being  held.  The  fact  was  secret,  and 
to  keep  it  so,  Boss  McBride  had  gone  upstairs  by 
the  kitchen  stairs  of  the  hotel,  and  slipped  through 
the  corridors  at  a  moment  when  they  were  re 
ported  clear  of  both  newspaper  men  and  poli 
ticians.  Besides  McBride,  were  present  the  Sen 
ator  himself,  and  his  son-in-law. 

Each  of  the  three  was  posed  in  a  characteristic 
attitude.  Senator  Dawes  was  seated  in  a  chair 
before  the  table,  upon  which  rested  his  elbow,  his 
head  half  turned  to  listen  to  the  others.  He 
looked  studious,  nervous,  sad,  half  philosopher, 

187 


The   Mills  of  Man 

less  than  half  politician.  Mr.  Corlis  stood,  his 
broad  back  propped  against  the  mantel-piece,  a 
cigar  between  the  first  and  second  fingers  of  his 
left  hand.  He  seemed  cool,  amused,  as  at  a  play; 
he  was  faultlessly  groomed.  The  Boss,  who  had 
come  in  upon  these  two,  contrasted  widely  with 
both  the  thinker  and  the  man  of  the  world.  He 
was  puffing  somewhat  from  his  climb,  and  his 
black  mane  was  tossed  leoninely;  the  great  jaw 
protruded  like  the  punishing  pugilist's  of  the  prize 
ring.  It  seemed,  indeed,  as  if  the  specious  cun 
ning  and  coarse  adroitness  of  the  man  had  for  the 
moment  retired,  and  as  if  in  their  place  had  ad 
vanced  rough  will  and  the  resolve  to  force  matters 
to  his  liking. 

"  Humph,  Senator,"  he  declared,  "  that  Ran 
som's  got  us  where  the  hair's  short — he  knows  it. 
He  knows  we  know  it,  too,  and  he  ain't  agoin'  to 
let  go." 

Senator  Dawes  looked  the  inquiry  he  was  too 
weary  to  frame. 

"  What's  up?  "  asked  Mr.  Corlis  tersely. 

"  The  platform  committee  has  just  quit.  Them 
fellers  from  Egypt  acted  up  like  mules,  Brady 
says.  He  just  come  out,  and  he  ought  to  know." 

"What  is  their  kick?"  asked  Mr.  Corlis  with 
sly  malice.  "  Won't  they  indorse  the  Senator  for 
reelection?  " 

Hearing,  the  mouth  of  the  old  statesman 
188 


The   Mills   of  Man 

opened  drily  and  shut  again.     What  could  he  re 
tort? 

"  Worse'n  that,"  rumbled  McBride.  "  Ran 
som  and  them  Egyptians  of  his  are  hell  bent  for 
a  Silver  plank.  They  won't  take  nothin'  short — 
they  ain't  modest,  not  a  bit." 

"  Well,  that  was  to  be  expected,"  commented 
Mr.  Corlis  undisturbed.  "  Don't  dispute  with 
them — just  quietly  vote  them  down,  as  we  did 
this  afternoon  in  the  Convention." 

The  Boss  looked  scornful.  He  eyed  Corlis  as 
a  "  professional  "  will  a  tyro. 

'They  haven't  the  majority?"  the  latter  re 
taliated. 

"  Nope,"  snapped  the  Boss,  "  but  they've  got 
the  resolve  and  that's  a  damn  sight  worse  to  buck. 
Ransom,  he  means  bizness,  that's  what  I'm  tellin' 
you.  He  come  down  flat-footed,  damned  Brady 
across  the  table,  and  says  recognition  of  Silver  has 
got  to  go  into  the  platform  or  he  and  his  friends 
'11  walk  out  the  Convention." 

The  Senator  got  upon  his  feet  and  began  pacing 
the  room  to  suppress  his  agitation. 

Mr.  Corlis  took  his  time;  he  cut  a  new  cigar, 
struck  a  match,  and  drew  slow  puffs  of  smoke. 
McBride  looked  from  one  man  to  the  other  and 
his  heavy  face  grew  more  lowering  still. 

"  Well,"  Mr.  Corlis  spoke  at  last,  "  does  he 
mean  it?  " 

189 


The   Mills   of  Man 

"Mean  it!"  echoed  the  Boss  wrath  fully. 
"  Can  I  make  it  plainer?  He  knows  he's  got  the 
drop  on  us,  and  Ransom  ain't  the  feller  to  do  the 
sentimental.  There  never  was  no  let  up  in  him." 

Mr.  Corlis  swung  on  his  heel  away  from  Me- 
Bride. 

"  Is  money  any  object  with  the  Governor?  "  he 
asked  casually. 

'  They  say  so,  yes — used  to  be  in  Springfield," 
the  Boss  replied.  "  But  it  ain't  no  good  now. 
Ransom's  got  his  back  up,  and  the  crowd  that's 
with  him  are  a  lot  of  fanatic  yaps.  He's  put  us 
in  a  hole,  that's  what."  McBride  looked  doleful. 

Mr.  Corlis  took  a  turn  down  the  room,  and, 
coming  back,  faced  the  Boss. 

"  Then  it  means  we  must  throw  the  dog  a  bone. 
Anyhow  a  platform  is  only  so  much  paper." 

Senator  Dawes  halted  in  his  walk,  but  he 
spoke  as  if  to  the  wall, 

"  A  platform  is  a  declaration  of  principles." 

McBride's  face  had  cleared  suddenly. 

"  I'll  tell  Brady  to  go  ahead  and  let  them  yaps 
write  Silver  in  big  capitals  to-morrow  mornin',  if 
they  want  to." 

"  They  will  defeat  us  next  fall,  if  we  don't, 
that's  positive,"  observed  Mr.  Corlis  with  deliber 
ation.  "  It  cannot  matter  materially  if  the  plat 
form  does  screech  bimetalism,  provided  we  elect  a 

190 


The   Mills   of  Man 

gold  governor  and  the  legislature  chooses  a  gold 
senator." 

He  smiled,  as  if  the  difficulty  were  quite  dis 
posed  of. 

'  The  party  must  be  held  together,  or  we  can't 
do  business,"  muttered  McBride.  u  And  sayin'  a 
thing  ain't  always  meanin'  it,  the  saints  be  praised." 

He  winked  jovially  at  his  colleague. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  say,  Senator?  "  asked  Mr. 
Corlis,  finally. 

The  hands  of  the  Senator,  folded  underneath 
his  black  coat-tails,  writhed  in  one  another  and  dis 
turbed  the  tails.  He  looked  like  some  possible 
species  of  venerable  goat  caught  in  the  pangs  of 
indigestion.  He  did  not  cease  to  walk. 

"  Don't  ask  me,"  he  feebly  answered,  "  I  don't 
know.  This  Silver  craze  is  a  most  damnable  here 
sy.  But  you,  not  I,  are  running  this  Convention 
— you're  responsible.  You  know  how  the  peepul 
feel;  I've  been  in  Washington  too  much  of  the 
time  myself." 

Suddenly  he  felt  himself  overcome  with  weak 
ness,  and  he  dropped  into  a  chair.  He  wanted  to 
go  to  bed.  The  hum  of  the  Convention,  the  con 
tention  of  tongues,  still  sounded  in  his  ears,  and 
he  was  tired  too  with  old  age. 

Corlis  seized  the  situation. 

"  I  think  we'll  leave,  McBride.  The  Senator 
is  worn  out  and  he  ought  to  be  asleep.  Senator, 

^ 


The   Mills   of  Man 

McBride  and  I  will  fix  it  up,  and  you  can  send  us 
word  in  the  morning,  if  you  wish  to  let  us  know 
your  decision." 

The  Boss  had  caught  the  signal  in  his  colleague's 
eyes,  and  he  acquiesced  without  a  word.  Senator 
Dawes  was  thankful  to  have  them  go. 

"  All  right,  Walter,"  he  said.  "  You  had  better 
sleep  on  it  and  so  had  I.  That's  wisest  always, 
when  one  can." 

Left  alone,  the  old  man  lay  back  in  his  chair 
and  the  thoughts  coursed  through  his  mind  like 
alternating  currents.  They  were  harrowing 
thoughts  that  harassed  his  nerves.  The  lines  of 
care  and  craft  grew  deeper  about  his  eyes  and 
mouth. 

Despite  his  worldly  experience,  the  Senator  re 
tained  much  of  the  theological  mode  of  thinking 
in  which  he  had  been  nurtured.  Thus,  what  he 
styled  his  temptation,  he  realized  was  now  upon 
him.  He  was  unable  to  escape  this  conviction,  for 
all  the  power  of  sophistry  in  which  he  was  so 
greatly  exercised  by  a  lifetime  of  political  dissimu 
lation  and  special  pleading. 

It  was  his  temptation,  because  it  threatened  the 
bed-rock  principles  of  his  political  philosophy  and 
faith — the  principles  upon  which  his  career  was 
based;  those  he  had  preached  to  two  generations 
of  Americans;  those  he  believed  had  been  sancti 
fied  by  the  Revolutionary  fathers. 

192 


The   Mills   of  Man 

He  understood  human  nature,  and  he  was 
neither  an  idealist  nor  a  doctrinaire.  He  knew 
how  to  shift  and  change;  how  to  use  men  and  to 
abandon  them;  how  to  shape  opinion,  and  to  twist 
prejudice  and  wrong-headedness  to  the  advance 
ment  of  good  government  and  sound  policy.  The 
arts  of  the  demagogue  were  much  at  his  command 
as  well  as  the  practice  of  management;  he  was  an 
old  hand  at  the  distribution  of  offices  and  an  adept 
as  a  maker  of  promises  that  time  by  itself  must 
nullify. 

Nevertheless,  Senator  Dawes  was  not  a  dema 
gogue.  Means  he  might  be  tolerant  concerning; 
about  ends  he  had  remained  inflexible.  Funda 
mentally,  the  man  was  patriotic,  a  thinker  and  a 
searcher  after  truth.  His  youth  had  been  fash 
ioned  in  the  fires  of  the  great  patriotic  outburst 
which  saved  the  Union,  and  the  spirit  of  that  time 
still  survived  in  him.  He  was  a  lover  of  the  peo 
ple  still  and  a  republican  who  fervently  believed 
in  the  efficacy  of  his  country's  institutions  and  their 
mission  of  liberty  in  the  world. 

He  likewise  was  an  office-holder.  The  Senate 
was  his  life.  He  believed  he  rendered  the  Re 
public  service  there;  but  he  loved  the  chamber 
for  itself,  loved  the  work,  the  associations,  the 
great  traditions,  the  final  power  of  the  American 
House  of  Lords.  He  wished  to  die  in  harness, 
to  be  to  the  end  a  Senator  of  the  United  States. 

193 


The   Mills   of  Man 

For  with  what  could  he  fill  his  life,  were  he  to 
fail  of  a  return  for  the  sixth  time?  The  vacuity 
that  threatened,  tormented  him  incessantly,  allowed 
not  his  mind  the  consideration  of  his  principles, 
intruded  when  he  endeavored  to  realize  the  enor 
mity  of  Silver  and  of  what  he  was  convinced 
must  work  evil  to  the  nation.  He  found  no  con 
solation  in  the  phrase  "honorable  retirement:" 
it,  to  him,  but  signified  poignant  desolation.  He 
knew  the  world,  how  men  treated  a  man  whose 
success  was  ended,  a  man  relegated  to  the  "  scrap- 
heap."  He  had  sympathy  for  old  Prince  Bis 
marck,  growling  in  the  woods  alone,  after  the 
Kaiser  had  turned  him  off. 

The  Senator  went  to  bed.  He  could  postpone 
until  morning  the  intolerable  review  of  pro  and 
con;  sleep  might  suggest  the  solution.  His  head 
once  on  the  pillow,  the  brain  raced  more  swiftly 
than  before.  He  was  like  a  man  about  to  drown, 
to  whom,  in  a  flash,  his  whole  life  appears.  Even 
in  the  darkness  he  felt  he  could  perceive  the  bare 
walls  of  the  hotel  room  and  each  ugly  piece  of 
furniture,  while  the  grinding  rumble  of  Chicago's 
streets  sounded  as  Niagara  to  his  ears. 

Perhaps  no  man  living  was  competent  to  instruct 
Senator  Dawes  in  the  political  conditions  of  the 
Republic.  He  had  been  a  life-long  student  of  her 
institutions  and  had  learned  what  her  people  were; 
had  kept  year  after  year  in  touch  with  them,  knew 

194 


The   Mills   of  Man 

their  heart  and  mind  and  temper.  Also  he  knew 
the  changes  that  had  been  wrought  in  them  and 
all  that  such  implied.  This  vast  and  intricate 
knowledge  mastered  him;  he  was  its  victim. 
Now,  as  he  lay  outstretched,  vainly  seeking  the 
light  sleep  of  old  age,  this  knowledge  forced  itself 
upon  him,  did  not  permit  him  to  delude  himself. 

Had  it  been  as  in  the  old  days,  when,  as  he 
remembered,  government  was  carried  on  by  dis 
cussion,  he  could  have  braved  the  issue,  stuck 
to  righteous  words  and  gone  upon  the  stump  and 
fought  his  enemies  before  the  people's  eyes.  His 
weapons  then  had  been  those  of  logic,  supple 
mented  by  appeals  to  the  people's  conscience.  He 
had  required,  then,  neither  lies  nor  dissimulations, 
nor  money,  nor  machines.  Right  reason  and 
righteous  motives,  they  had  sufficed  alone  to  shake 
the  old  State  of  Illinois  to  its  center. 

But  now!  Where  were  those  freemen — God 
fearing,  practical,  and  cool  reasoning  men — who 
asked  for  themselves  but  honest  toil  and  civic 
liberty,  and  demanded  only  of  the  government 
they  set  up,  seemly  order  and  decent  justice?  He 
knew  that  old  constituency  had  perished,  or  was 
submerged.  There  were  classes,  races,  divisions 
now.  There  were  great  blocks  of  voters  who 
would  flout  at  argument;  others,  whose  prejudices 
must  be  studied;  some,  who  asked  for  money  or 

195 


The  Mills  of  Man 

for  "  jobs;  "  others,  still,  who  only  through  a  dis 
ciplined  organization  could  be  reached. 

A  vision  of  Chicago  rose  in  his  mind — Chicago, 
the  new  fact  in  Illinois,  the  metropolitan  city,  the 
congeries  of  diverse  aliens — Chicago,  vast,  turbu 
lent,  ugly,  unclean,  but  with  what  force,  what  life, 
what  passion,  the  heart  of  all  the  West,  the  young 
giantess  who  forestalled  the  future,  who  gathered 
in  herself  the  converging  lines  of  the  continent,  as 
a  belly  holds  the  reins. 

Chicago  dominated  him.  Her  he  did  not  un 
derstand,  nor  on  what  terms  to  deal  with  her. 
Her  barbarian  standards  staggered  him  and  re 
duced  the  sure  wisdom  that  he  had  to  foolishness. 
In  her  presence  he  grew  conscious  of  what  a  fool 
he  was  to  introduce  into  the  problem  principles  of 
honor  and  of  conduct  appropriate  only  to  condi 
tions  now  obsolete.  He  might  go  upon  the  stump 
this  summer  and  reason  as  Douglas  reasoned,  as 
Lincoln  reasoned.  Forsooth,  would  Chicago  and 
the  new  spirit  hearken? 

Nay,  were  he  himself  not  a  man  of  the  past, 
not  himself  hopelessly  obsolete,  he  must  march 
abreast  of  the  times  and  forbear  disparagement. 
The  men  of  the  day  were  such  men  as  his  son-in- 
law  and  the  Irish  Boss.  He  must  conform,  agree 
with  their  views,  adopt  their  methods,  follow 
them. 

Ay,  follow!  The  verb  revealed  the  truth — he 
196 


The   Mills   of  Man 

had  lost  his  leadership;  the  younger  men  were 
chiefs. 

Leader  and  chief,  the  contrasted  words  included 
all  the  change.  Leaders  of  opinion  were  passing 
out  of  fashion;  chiefs  of  organization  and  man 
agers  of  campaigns  had  superseded  them. 

Possessed  of  this  bitter  conviction,  the  Senator 
finally  fell  asleep.  It  was  then  close  to  dawn, 
and  the  old  man  did  not  consciously  awaken  until 
nearly  nine  o'clock.  His  first  thought  was  of  the 
committee  and  of  the  necessity  for  doing  some 
thing  quickly.  But,  as  he  drew  his  garments  over 
his  chilly  limbs,  resolution  ebbed  from  him. 

What  for?  his  vague  mind  asked.  Why  at 
tempt  to  influence,  where  influence  was  defunct? 
Once  he  had  guided  the  current,  now  the  current 
directed  him.  Let  it.  He  was  no  Don  Quixote 
to  insist  upon  riding  an  impossible  tournament. 
The  committee  was  not  his  business;  the  platform 
they  would  lay  down  was  for  Illinois,  it  would 
possess  no  meaning  at  Washington.  His  own 
principles  were  known,  nor  could  they  be  amended 
by  what  a  State  Convention  might  resolve.  If 
Corlis  and  McBride  felt  the  need  of  a  Silver 
plank  in  order  to  elect  their  man  governor,  he  was 
not  concerned.  He  was  interested  only  in  remain 
ing  Senator  at  Washington,  where  after  election 
he  would  stand  and  vote  as  he  had  in  the  past, 

197 


The   Mills   of  Man 

according  to  what  he  believed  to  be  sound  states 
manship. 

Senator  Dawes,  yielding  to  indisposition,  re 
mained  in  his  room  the  entire  morning,  talking 
with  the  few  who  called  to  see  him.  The  hour 
for  the  reassembling  of  the  Convention  had  long 
passed,  yet  no  messenger  from  Corlis  or  McBride 
had  appeared  to  learn  what  Senator  Dawes  had 
concluded,  overnight,  about  the  platform. 

In  fact,  the  Senator  did  not  reach  the  Conven 
tion  hall  until  after  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon. 

The  platform  had  been  reported  at  the  morning 
session,  and  no  one,  in  the  absence  of  Senator 
Dawes,  had  been  found  to  protest  against  the 
Silver  plank,  or  to  advocate  the  substitution  of  a 
sound  money  declaration. 

The  platform,  as  reported  by  the  committee, 
had  been  adopted  without  discussion;  Governor 
Ransom  had  read  it  through  with  smooth  per- 
functoriness,  and  Chairman  Corlis,  with  a  stroke 
of  his  gavel,  had  declared  it  "  moved  and  seconded 
and  adopted."  Smiling  and  adroit  he  had  put  the 
question  and  settled  the  whole  matter  before  any 
delegate  had  a  chance  to  say  so  much  as  Jack 
Robinson.  A  few  strenuous  "  silk-stocking  re 
formers  "  yelled  protests,  when  it  was  too  late, 
but  Mr.  Corlis  could  not  see  their  signals  nor  hear 
their  vociferations.  Presently  the  Convention 
howled,  in  unanimity,  "  Sit  down,  sit  down !  " 

198 


The   Mills   of  Man 

Moral  principle,  like  a  farthing  candle,  was  snuffed 
out. 

The  Senator  demurely  sought  his  seat  in  the 
big  leather  chair  reserved  for  him  at  the  right  of 
the  Chairman,  a  little  back.  A  note  soon  came  to 
him  from  his  daughter,  a  note  of  congratulations 
upon  the  resolution,  embodied  in  the  platform, 
declaring  him  the  party's  choice  for  election  to  the 
United  States  Senate  by  the  next  legislature. 


199 


H 


XXI 

THE  GOVERNOR 

E  is  the  man,  the  best  of  them  I've  seen 
here,"  observed  J.  J.  J.  to  his  niece. 

Governor   Ransom   was   presenting  the 
platform  to  the  Convention. 

'  You  said,  didn't  you,  Vicky,"  the  magnate 
resumed  some  five  minutes  later,  "  that  you  used 
to  know  him  years  ago?  " 

'  Very  well  indeed,"  said  Mrs.  Corlis  in  con 
firmation.  "  I  knew  him  from  the  time  I  was 
twelve  years  old  until  I  was  married.  You  must 
have  heard  about  him  from  us  a  great  many  times, 
if  you  remember,  Uncle  Johnny.  He  was  ten 
years  older  than  I  and  the  first  grown-up  friend 
I  ever  had.  But  I  have  not  seen  him  for  years 
now." 

;'  I  should  say,"  concluded  the  money-master, 
as  he  removed  his  eyes  from  the  figure  of  the 
Governor,  "  I  should  say  your  old  friend,  Vicky, 
was  a  born  leader  of  men — he  is,  or  I  miss  my 
guess.  Couldn't  well  help  being  it,  if  he  tried. 
I  wonder  what  he  means  by  wasting  such  abili 
ties." 

'  You  mean  his  championship  of  Silver?  "    in- 
200 


The   Mills   of  Man 

quired  Mrs.  Corlis.  "It  is  strange.  But  Chris 
Ruggles,  the  Pundit  reporter  I  introduced  to  you 
yesterday,  has  been  down  to  Egypt  within  the  last 
three  months  for  his  paper,  and  he  says  the  senti 
ment  down  there  is  simply  indescribably  strong. 
In  his  opinion,  if  Governor  Ransom  wished  to  re 
tain  any  part  of  his  ascendency  in  southern  Illinois, 
he  had  no  choice  but  to  go  with  the  tide." 

J.  J.  J.  nodded. 

"  Mebbe  so,  mebbe  so,"  he  muttered. 

Presently : 

"  A  peculiar  man,  Vicky,  I  can  see  that.  Now, 
I  can  see  in  your  friend  most  of  the  qualifications 
for  real  leadership;  he  has  will  and  courage  in 
abundant  measure,  also  imagination  and  sufficient 
flexibility.  Then,  they  say,  he  is  an  orator  and 
the  cutest  practical  politician  in  the  state.  Why 
does  he  want  to  spoil  his  chances  by  attaching 
himself  to  a  lost  cause;  for  that's  what  Silver  will 
amount  to,  and  no  more." 

"  Perhaps,  Uncle  Johnny,  Governor  Ransom 
would  not  agree  with  you  that  Silver  is  a  lost 
cause,"  suggested  Mrs.  Corlis,  suddenly  unwilling 
to  concede  the  certainty  as  against  her  former 
friend. 

"  But  it  can't  be  anything  else."  J.  J.  J.  was 
positive.  "  Retrogressive  movements,  reactions, 
however  violent  for  the  time,  are  doomed  always 
to  end  in  one  way.  The  ultimate  defeat  of  this 

20 1 


The   Mills   of  Man 

Silver  lunacy  is  just  as  certain  as  that  to-morrow's 
sun  will  rise." 

Again  she  was  surprised  by  her  own  irritation. 
She  resented  it  that  her  uncle  should  dismiss  so 
high-handedly  the  possibility  of  success  for  what 
the  Governor  represented. 

"  He  may  not  think  so,  Uncle  Johnny,"  she 
said,  combatively.  "  Chris,  who  has  been  investi 
gating,  believes  the  movement  will  shake  the 
country  to  the  center;  he  contends  that  the  dele 
gates  from  Egypt,  whom  Mr.  McBride's  hench 
men  call  "  hayseed  farmer  yaps,"  are  a  new  set 
in  politics.  They  have  turned  out  the  old  political 
fgang,  who  were  in  politics  for  the  spoils,  and  they 
ihead  a  new  democratic  movement  which  will  re- 
'deem  politics  and  will  renew  the  old-time  Ameri 
can  life." 

-.  "Humph!"  ejaculated  J.  J.  J.  Yet  it  was 
neither  a  contemptuous  nor  a  disbelieving  humph; 
it  simply  registered  the  fact  that  he  was  impressed, 
that  he  recognized  he  had  encountered  a  new 
.force,  which,  perhaps,  would  require  attention. 

For  J.  J.  J.  did  not  deal  with  theories  or  form 
any  dogmatic  conceptions  of  how  things,  from  the 
point  of  view  of  a  capitalist,  ought  to  be:  he 
considered  forces  and  respected  all  of  them;  he 
estimated  the  strength  of  each  and  did  not  waste 
his  time  condemning  or  approving  any.  His  mind, 
in  short,  possessed  the  impersonality  of  greatness. 

202 


The   Mills   of  Man 

How  different  from  his  was  the  attitude  of  his 
niece.  She  throbbed  with  enthusiasms  and  thrilled 
with  sympathies;  she  even  had  difficulty,  as  she 
recognized  herself,  to  prevent  her  prejudice  from 
running  away  with  her  judgment.  Chris  Ruggles 
yesterday,  to  show  her  of  what  stuff  the  new  men 
from  Egypt  were  made,  had  escorted  her  to  the 
far  side  of  the  hall,  where  from  an  advantageous 
gallery  he  had  bidden  her  look  down  and  study 
the  revolutionists. 

She  recalled  now  what  they  had  seemed  to  her; 
moreover,  the  original  impression  had  been 
deepened  by  the  reflections  of  a  restless  night. 
Those  men  were  not  politicians,  at  least  of  any 
of  the  breeds  with  which  she  was  acquainted;  they 
were  obviously  neither  place-hunters  nor  money- 
seekers.  In  political  parlance,  and  Mrs.  Corlis 
did  not  shrink  from  employment  of  the  term, 
they  were  not  "  trough-feeders."  They  were  not 
even  men  of  craft,  who  played  the  game  for  the 
excitement's  sake  and  relished  human  nature  in 
the  red,  raw  state.  They  were  none  of  these. 

They  were  dreamers,  rather,  good  hearts,  simple 
folk,  who  on  their  farms  had  felt  the  rapture  of 
a  new  humanitarian  cause,  and  had  hungered  and 
thirsted  after  righteousness  in  government  and 
law,  as  their  Cromwellian  and  Methodistic  fore 
bears  had  yearned  and  suffered  in  the  cause  of  the 
new  ideals  of  their  several  days. 

203 


The   Mills   of  Man 

Yesterday,  looking  down  at  them,  the  involun 
tary  tears  had  started  in  her  eyes.  One  half  of 
her  nature  or  inheritance,  the  Puritan,  the  moral, 
understood  those  men  and  sympathized  with  their 
dreams.  She  had  said  to  herself — it  was  spontane 
ous — of  such  as  these  had  Lincoln  come,  and,  as 
they  were,  such  had  been  her  father  in  his  youth. 
Between  them — the  comparison  in  her  own  mind 
was  instant — and  the  captains  of  industry  in  Chi 
cago  whom  she  knew,  what  a  gulf  yawned. — Was 
it  Progress,  could  it  be  called  such,  she  questioned, 
which  maintained  and  was  widening  that  gulf? 

Who  were  nobler,  those  men  of  riches  in  the 
cities  with  their  loose  morals,  their  cynical  con 
tempts,  their  conception  of  the  world  as  an  ex 
change  to  make  profits  in  and  as  a  mart  to  buy 
sensual  luxuries  in,  or  those  country  lawyers  and 
unpolished  yeomen,  morally  austere,  who  cherished 
in  this  corrupt  day  the  ethical  ideals  of  the  high 
Anglo-Saxon  race,  and  who  were  animated  now  by 
a  vision  of  Justice  enthroned  and  human  brother 
hood  become  an  institution?  Mrs.  Corlis  poign 
antly  suspected  in  her  soul  that  the  dream  of  these 
men  might  be  the  authentic  modern  version  of  the 
ideal  of  Saint  Augustine's  Civitas  Dei,  the  City  of 
God. 

Under  this  impulsion  she  renewed  her  opposi 
tion  to  her  uncle. 

"  May  it  not  prove,  Uncle  Johnny,  that  the  in- 
204 


The   Mills  of  Man 

tensity  of  the  movement  may  spread  it  throughout 
the  nation  and  that  by  it  the  old  parties  will  be 
submerged  or  reformed?  Is  it  not  just  that  prob 
ability  which  Governor  Ransom  perceives?  He 
fancies  that  if  now  he  embarks  upon  the  wave,  it 
may  lift  him  aloft  into  national  power  and  reputa 
tion." 

"  But,  Vicky,  all  the  movement  has  behind  it  is 
enthusiasm  and  belief." 

J.  J.  J.  was  kind  to  her  feminine  credulity,  but 
he  felt  it  better  not  to  mince  matters. 

"  Napoleon  said,  remember,  God  is  on  the  side 
of  the  heavy  battalions,  and  that's  safe  to  bank 
on.  Besides,  Vicky,  this  Governor  of  yours  ain't 
one  bit  fooled — he  ain't  that  kind.  To  get  down 
to  brass  tacks,  I  guess  pure  cussedness  made  him 
pick  the  forlorn  hope;  it's  what  suits  his  nerves." 

The  probability,  if  not  the  truth,  of  this  sur 
mise,  silenced  Mrs.  Corlis.  Yet  her  secret  mind 
protested  against  what  she  felt  were  the  capital 
istic  assumptions  of  her  uncle's  point  of  view. 

Both  were  presently  engaged  in  watching  the 
Convention,  Mrs.  Corlis  with  the  appearance  of 
alertness  yet  with  eyes  that  dreamed,  J..  J.  J.  with 
the  aspect  of  a  drowsy  mystic,  but  beholding  men 
and  things  exactly  as  they  were. 

Mr.  Jarrett's  speculation  concerning  the  Gov 
ernor's  determining  motive,  goes  far  to  explain 

205 


The   Mills   of  Man 

Randolph  Ransom  and  the  notorious  contradic 
tions  of  his  career. 

He  was  now  concluding  his  second  term  as  Gov 
ernor  of  Illinois,  and  as  executive  of  the  state  had 
enjoyed  nearly  eight  years  of  sway.  He  had  al 
ways  been  "  in  politics  "  from  his  earliest  man 
hood,  and  he  was  now  turning  his  fiftieth  year. 
Politics,  in  truth,  was  more  than  his  pursuit;  he 
had  made  it  a  profession,  studying  it  prodigiously 
as  other  men  may  study  engineering.  And  he 
had  mastered  the  practice  of  politics,  as  a  naval 
captain  does  his  ship  or  a  gambler  his  cards. 

Ransom  had  begun  life  ostensibly  as  a  country 
lawyer,  but  had  scarcely  commenced  before  he 
had  abandoned  even  the  pretense  of  keeping  a  law 
office.  First  he  had  been  chosen  sheriff  of  his 
county,  then  state  senator  for  many  terms,  then 
lieutenant-governor,  finally  governor,  and  gover 
nor  a  second  time.  Originally  a  protege  of  Senator 
Dawes,  afterwards  his  confidential  man,  he  be 
came  the  latter's  lieutenant  and  manager.  Those 
who  knew  affirmed  that  "  Uncle  Simeon"  owed 
one  of  his  reelections  to  the  Senate,  probably  two, 
entirely  to  the  friendship  of  Randolph  Ransom. 

The  man  somehow,  from  the  outset,  won  the 
bitter  antagonism  of  "  the  better  element,"  the 
ultra-respectability  of  his  party.  His  name  be 
came  a  by-word  on  the  lips  and  his  success  a  stench 
in  the  nostrils  of  the  "  silk-stocking  "  faction  in 

206 


The   Mills   of  Man 

Chicago.  "  Reformers  "  anathematized  him;  Chi 
cago  newspapers  villified  him;  he  was  the  builder 
of  the  most  powerful  state  machine  ever  con 
structed  in  Illinois,  and  he  had  a  hearty  loathing 
for  "  literary  fellers  "  and  "  civil-service  cranks/' 
Early  and  always  he  was  distinguished  as  a  hard 
hater  and  a  hard  hitter,  too;  he  never  compro 
mised  or  ceased  hammering  an  enemy's  head.  In 
fine,  he  was  a  man  who  enjoyed  a  superfluity  of 
friends  and  foes,  since  all  men  were  one  or  the 
other. 

How  his  true  friends  loved  Randolph  Ransom ! 
How  his  followers  "  stuck,"  through  thick  and 
thin,  sun  and  shine,  tempest  or  earthquake !  The 
whole  of  Egypt  worshiped  him  and  he  furthered 
Egypt's  interests,  fought  for  Egypt's  prejudices, 
got  offices  for  Egypt's  leaders.  The  men  of  Egypt 
were  his  feudatories  and  he  their  Henry  of  Na 
varre,  their  captain  of  a  hundred  fights.  He  was 
not  better  than  were  they;  he  could  out-swear 
them,  out-drink  them,  beat  them  at  poker,  and 
out-argue  the  longest-winded  farmer  that  sat  on 
a  barrel  anywhere  between  the  three  rivers.  Nor 
did  his  following  stop  at  Egypt;  the  man  won  de 
voted  friends  wherever  he  was  known.  Indeed, 
it  was  estimated  that  Ransom's  personal  strength 
in  Illinois  was  what  Stephen  A.  Douglas'  had  been 
or  John  A.  Logan's. 

Yet  this  practical  politician,  this  tobacco-squirt- 

14 


The  Mills  of  Man 

ing  demagogue,  this  rough-and-tumble  darling  of 
the  masses,  was  a  gentleman  born,  in  the  strictest 
Southern  sense.  He  came  of  blue-grass  Kentucky 
stock.  His  father  had  been  a  "  colonel  "  before 
the  war,  and  his  mother  was  a  gentlewoman.  The 
marks  of  lineage  were  unmistakable  in  his  face; 
his  traditions  were  inevitably  reflected  in  his  man 
ner,  though  he  would  fain  have  escaped  them  ut 
terly,  though  he  had  lived  like  a  "  rounder  "  and 
a  Democrat  of  Democrats  religiously  the  most  of 
his  days. 

He  was  notoriously  indifferent  to  women.  His 
intimates  averred  that  he  had  never  uttered  a  word 
in  dispraise  of  the  sex  or  a  word  in  their  praise, 
either.  Women  seemed  not  to  be  in  his  thoughts; 
he  displayed  no  active  aversion  to  them,  but  that 
they  had  been  banished  from  his  mind  was  mani 
fest. 

The  attitude  of  the  Governor  during  the  past 
winter  had  not  been  wholly  understood.  He  had 
let  his  friends  know  he  would  not  accept  the  nom 
ination  for  a  third  term  as  governor,  even  if  he 
could  get  it.  Moreover,  he  had  announced  that 
he  would  not  contest  the  United  States  Senatorship 
with  Simeon  E.  Dawes.  He  did  declare,  not 
withstanding,  that  his  views  on  public  matters 
had  so  widely  departed  from  those  professed  by 
Senator  Dawes,  that  he  found  himself  unable 
actively  to  support  the  latter  for  reelection.  But, 

208 


The  Mills  of  Man 

on  the  other  hand,  he  stated  positively  that  he 
could  not  think  of  opposing  so  old  and  so  intimate 
a  friend,  one,  too,  who  deserved  so  well  of  Illinois. 

Governor  Ransom's  partiality  for  Silver  and 
Bimetallism  had  been  evinced  at  least  as  far  back 
as  two  years  ago.  In  truth,  never  at  any  time 
in  his  career  could  he  have  been  counted  as  reliably 
a  Sound  Money  man.  Consequently,  when  the 
storm  burst  in  southern  Illinois,  it  was  to  be  ex 
pected  the  Governor  would  not  constitute  himself 
an  emergency  lightning  rod  to  draw  its  ire  for 
the  benefit  of  others  threatened  by  the  vengeance. 
He  had  waited  on  developments,  and  at  the  proper 
moment  had  stepped  in  front  of  the  movement 
and  assumed  the  baton  of  leadership. 

His  accession  was  acclaimed,  since  there  was 
need  of  leadership.  He  supplied  edge  to  the 
movement's  sword,  point  to  its  arrow;  his  adroit 
ness  oiled  the  crude  machinery  of  fanaticism. 

In  the  session  of  the  committee  which  con 
structed  the  platform,  adopted  subsequently  by  the 
Convention,  Governor  Ransom  displayed  no  least 
rancor  against  Senator  Dawes.  He  declared  that 
he  stood  for  a  principle  and  entertained  no  ani 
mosity  against  persons;  that  he  was,  as  always, 
a  Republican,  but  that  he  was  interested  to  pre 
serve  the  Republican  party  as  the  party  of  the 
people. 

He  did  not  want  the  earth,  he  said,  his  dearest 
209 


The   Mills   of  Man 

desire  being  to  persuade  everybody  "  to  get  to 
gether."  Accordingly,  and  in  promotion  of  party 
harmony,  he  was  prepared  to  barter  a  senatorship 
for  a  platform-plank. 

'  You  want  '  Uncle  Simeon  '  endorsed ;  I  want 
Bimetallism  approved;  that's  easy."  Such  was 
his  refrain. 

Finally,  under  the  pressure  of  a  threat  to 
"  bolt,"  he  wrought  the  committee  to  his  will.  His 
plan  "  to  promote  harmony  "  was  accepted  by  the 
Convention;  Senator  Dawes  was  declared  the 
party's  choice  for  Senator  and  recommended  to 
the  next  legislature,  Bimetallism  was  commended 
and  Free  Silver  declared  an  article  of  the  Re 
publican  creed. 

Thus  Governor  Ransom  had  apparently  suc 
ceeded  in  his  purpose  of  committing  the  party  in 
Illinois  to  Silver.  Apparently  he  had  won  his 
battle.  He  was  observed  to  smile  with  satisfac 
tion,  as  he  read  the  resolution  endorsing  Senator 
Dawes. 


210 


XXII 

THE  DAWES-MCBRIDE-CORLIS  COMBINATION 

THE  report  of  the  Committee  on  Resolutions 
having  been  adopted  as  the  platform  by  the 
Convention,  the  business  next  in  order  was 
the  selection  of  candidates  to  constitute  the  party 
ticket. 

It  was  half  past  four  o'clock  when  Chairman 
Corlis  declared  nominations  for  governor  to  be 
in  order,  and  directed  that  the  roll  of  counties  be 
called,  in  order  that  each  county  might  have  op 
portunity  to  present  a  name,  should  it  so  choose 
to  exercise  its  privilege. 

No  intimation  up  to  this  time,  emanating  from 
an  authoritative  source,  indicated  that  the  ruling 
powers  had  united  upon  any  one  man  for  the  honor 
of  the  nomination;  indeed,  so  far  it  was  not  de 
monstrated  that  any  u  combine  "  whatsoever,  if 
such  existed,  could  control  an  actual  majority  of 
the  Convention.  Therefore,  experienced  political 
forecasters  expected  that  "  The  Big  Three,"  if 
there  were  such  a  trinity,  would  be  chary  about 
exposing  the  full  strength  of  their  hands  at  first, 
and,  most  likely,  would  proceed  to  test  the  senti 
ment  of  the  delegates  and  to  disclose  the  divisions 

211 


The   Mills   of  Man 

of  the  Convention  in  advance,  by  bringing  forward 
tentative  candidates. 

The  upshot  confirmed  the  suspicion.  When 
Cook  County  was  called,  alphabetically  among  the 
first,  Alderman  Thomas  Patrick  Casey  of  Chicago 
put  in  nomination  the  name  of  State  Senator  Mc 
Donnell  McGruder,  while  the  "  Reform  Rump," 
by  the  voice  of  Arthur  Hillis  Collar,  presented 
the  name  of  Judge  Leonard  R.  Russell.  Ohio 
County  from  away  down  in  Egypt  nominated  Cy 
rus  Haskins,  and  a  Dawes  man  from  Sangamon 
named  James  B.  Steuben  of  Will  County. 

The  first  ballot  with  the  names  of  four  gentle 
men  in  nomination,  resulted  as  follows: 

McGruder   of    Cook    County.  .  .  .397  votes 

Russell   of    Cook   County 214  votes 

Haskins  of  Ohio  County 41 1   votes 

Steuben  of  Will  County 253  votes 

Scattering    113    votes. 

The  total  vote  of  the  Convention,  when  cast, 
was  1388.  A  majority  of  one  was  695  votes.  In 
other  words,  to  nominate  would  require  some  700 
votes. 

A  most  cursory  analysis  of  the  first  ballot  showed 
McBride's  Machine  confronted  by  a  solid  Egypt. 
But  the  vote  for  Steuben  of  Will,  it  was  remarked, 
represented  what  strength  Senator  Dawes  could 
swing  at  a  word,  namely,  about  250  votes,  while 
equally  it  was  proved  that  Ransom  as  candidate 

212 


The   Mills  of  Man 

for  chairman  could  draw  more  largely  upon  the 
Dawes  following  than  any  lieutenant  of  his  could 
hope  to  do.  Therefore  it  was  safe  to  infer  that 
411  votes  cast  for  Haskins  of  Ohio,  constituted 
the  maximum  of  the  Free  Silver  strength,  since  its 
candidate  could  not  expect  to  acquire  a  single  vote 
from  the  two  hundred  odd  "  reformers  "  of  Cook 
County,  and  since,  even  if  all  the  113  votes  regis 
tered  as  "scattering"  could  be  delivered  in  a 
lump,  the  Silver  representative,  notwithstanding, 
would  still  fall  short  of  attaining  a  majority  by 
some  175  votes.  Moreover,  it  was  probable,  if 
any  one  owned  them,  the  scattering  113  were  not 
the  property  of  the  Silver  leaders. 

The  second  ballot  showed  no  appreciable 
change. 

The  third  ballot  stood  as  follows: 

McGruder  of  Cook  County 522  votes 

Russell  of  Cook  County 212  votes 

Haskins  of  Ohio  County 438  votes 

Steuben  of  Will  County 130  votes 

Scattering    86   votes. 

The  result  clearly  indicated  that  about  one  half 
of  the  Dawes  men  had  "  flopped  "  to  the  Chicago 
Machine,  while  a  few  scattering  votes  had 
"  flocked  "  to  Egypt. 

What  now  impended?  Was  this  the  commence 
ment  of  a  "  landslide  "  to  the  Cook  County  candi 
date?  Uneasiness  permeated  the  Convention. 

213 


The   Mills   of  Man 

The  "  Reformers "  of  Chicago  were  seized 
with  a  mild  consternation.  They  had  desired  "  to 
administer  a  Waterloo  "  to  the  "  Free  Silver  lun 
acy;  "  but  now  they  asked  themselves,  with  trepi 
dation,  must  they,  in  order  to  rebuke  the  deep  sea 
of  repudiation,  swallow  the  devil  of  a  Boss  and  all 
his  works?  Was  their  choice  to  be  confined  to 
Scylla  and  Charybdis;  must  they  either  com 
promise  with  the  "  corrupt  Ransom "  or  strike 
hands  with  the  "  notorious  McBride?  "  Probably 
most  of  the  politicians  of  all  factions  were  "  tickled 
to  death  "  to  behold  the  dilemma  presented  the 
fastidious  "  gentlemen  and  reformers." 

Happily  the  fourth  ballot  relieved,  at  least  mo 
mentarily,  the  apprehension  of  the  "  reformers." 
It  stood : 

McGruder  of  Cook  County    .  .  .  .  100  votes 

Russell  of  Cook  County 143  votes 

Haskins  of  Ohio   County 442  votes 

Steuben  of  Will  County 621  votes. 

The  galleries  craned  their  necks  and  buzzed 
with  the  sense  of  crisis.  The  whole  Convention 
gave  vent  to  a  mighty  gasp,  when  the  secretary 
finished  reading  the  result.  One  thing  was  pal 
pable:  the  "combine"  between  the  Senator  and 
the  Chicago  Boss  had  been  doubly  demonstrated; 
its  ascendency  was  proclaimed;  its  compulsion 
rested  on  men  like  a  perception.  McBride  and 
"  Uncle  Simeon  "  swung  their  strength  now  this 

214 


The   Mills   of  Man 

way  and  now  that,  as  the  giants  of  finance  take  the 
weight  of  their  fingers  off  and  put  it  on  the  stocks 
again.  The  "  combine  "  would  name  the  nomi 
nee. 

A  hum  like  that  of  innumerable  bees  filled  the 
hall — it  was  the  hoarse  whispering  of  a  thousand 
men.  Some  were  frantic  and  rushed  here  and 
there,  swinging  arms  and  shouting  words. 

Six  hundred  and  twenty-one  votes  for  Steuben, 
Dawes'  friend,  a  respectable  mediocrity,  honest  and 
dense  !  Surely  another  ballot  must  nominate  him ! 
Already  it  was  clear  that  the  "  Reformers  "  would 
plump  for  him  in  preference  to  Haskins  or  Mc- 
Gruder,  while  McBride  had  still  in  hand  a  reserve 
of  one  hundred  solid  votes  to  throw  to  him,  more 
than  sufficient  to  nominate. 

'  The  band  wagon,"  was  the  phrase  on  nearly 
everybody's  lips.  "  Get  into  it,  or  you'll  get  left," 
the  comment.  "  Now  or  never,"  the  alternative. 
The  Convention,  like  a  cat,  was  crouching,  gather 
ing  to  spring. 

Suddenly  the  electric  lights  thrilled  into  life  and 
diffused  a  ghastly  pallor  over  the  excited  men. 
Hysteria  and  that  assembly  offered  each  other 
their  embrace. 

Hysteria  was  a  word  not  at  home  in  the  vo 
cabulary  of  McBride.  What  he  plotted  for  was 
the  creation  of  a  "  stampede,"  a  panic  of  enthu 
siasm  in  men  as  uncontrollable  as  the  panic  of  fear 

215 


The   Mills   of  Man 

in  cattle.  The  shifting  of  the  vote,  to  McGruder 
first,  then  plus  an  increment  to  Steuben,  had  de 
stroyed  the  poise  of  the  Convention,  had  anni 
hilated  its  faith  in  itself.  McBride,  to  use  his 
own  vernacular,  "  had  it  rattled."  Delegates  felt 
themselves  mere  reeds,  expectant  of  the  coming 
tempest,  ready  to  bow  north  or  south  or  east  or 
west  at  its  behest;  they  perceived  the  handwriting 
on  the  wall  and  waited  for  the  scourge  to  come. 

McBride  sat  in  the  first  seat  of  the  first  row, 
at  the  head  of  his  delegation.  The  platform  half 
hid  him  underneath  its  front.  He  sat  with  his 
great  shoulders  hunched,  stupid  stolidity  in  his 
face,  his  oblivious  eyes  half  closed.  Yet  he  was 
sharply  wakeful  in  his  every  sense. 

He,  who  knew  so  well  how  to  coerce  or  to 
persuade  individual  men,  was  possessed  also  of 
the  instinct  for  moving  men  en  masse.  He  was 
awaiting  what  more  pedantic  people  would  have 
styled  the  psychological  moment. 

Arthur  Hillis  Collar  arose  in  his  seat  far  back 
of  McBride  to  withdraw  the  name  of  Judge  Rus 
sell,  adding, 

"  Judge  Russell's  friends  will  be  unanimously 
for  that  man  of  the  plain  people,  James  B.  Steu 
ben,  of  Will  County." 

"The  Black  Boss"  roused  himself;  he  lifted 
his  head  heavily  from  its  niche  in  his  neck. 

216 


The   Mills   of  Man 

"  Damn  him,  I'll  fool  him!  "  he  muttered  in 
a  wrathful  undertone.  And  he  crooked  a  stubby 
finger  over  his  shoulder;  then  resumed  his  look 
at  the  floor. 

A  great  bulk  rolled  up  to  the  Boss. 

"  Get  up  there,  Brady,  and  let  'er  go !  " 

The  big  State  Senator  shouldered  his  way 
through  the  press  and  mounted  to  the  platform. 
A  moment,  and  his  towering  girth  of  head  and 
neck  and  chest  appeared  at  the  front.  The  dele 
gates  took  note;  the  shrill  buzz  hushed.  Brady 
was  the  storm-bird  of  the  Cook  County  Machine: 
where  his  batteries  of  speech  unlimbered,  it  was 
to  fire  plunging  shot  and  shrieking  shell. 

While  Brady  was  acquiring  the  Chairman's 
recognition,  McBride  had  gone  around  to  the  rear 
of  the  platform  and  so  gained  its  level.  Mrs. 
Corlis  saw  him  stepping  across  behind  the  screen 
of  men,  at  the  platform's  front.  At  her  father's 
chair  he  stood  still,  his  hand  upon  its  back. 

Senator  Brady  opened  his  great  throat.  But 
he  made  no  speech;  he  roared  a  sentence: 

"  Mr.  Chairman,  and  gentlemen  of  the  Conven 
tion,  Cook  County  withdraws  the  name  of  Mc 
Donnell  McGruder  and  nominates  for  the  head  of 
the  ticket  Walter  H.  D.  Corlis  of  Chicago !  " 

The  speaker  dropped  from  sight  like  a  Jack 
shut  in  his  box.  In  his  stead  appeared  to  the  eyes 
of  the  astounded  assembly  what  his  burly  form 

217 


The   Mills   of  Man 

had  masked,  a  figure  elegant  and  at  ease,  a  smile, 
half  deprecatory,  half  humorous,  on  his  handsome 
face,  in  his  hand  the  gavel  raised  to  signal  an  en 
treaty  for  order. 

In  a  burst  the  delegates  realized  that  the 
nominee  would  be  their  Chairman. 

Then  fell  a  sound  like  that  of  cataracts  released. 
Cook  County  was  on  its  feet  cheering,  was  on  its 
chairs.  The  "  whoops  "  were  "  let  loose  "  in  ser 
ies,  got  tangled  up,  rose  to  the  ceiling  in  a  vortex 
of  clamor.  The  galleries  howled,  bringing  their 
shoes  into  play,  so  that  sheets  of  dust  went  up  like 
smoke  from  the  pounded  boards.  The  henchmen 
of  McBride  flung  up  fourteen  dollar  silk  hats  and 
battered  them  with  their  fists  when  they  came 
tumbling  down.  They  climbed  upon  one  another's 
shoulders,  waving  banners,  standards,  umbrellas, 
handkerchiefs.  They  stripped  their  coats  off  and 
waved  them  and  their  shirt-sleeved  arms  together. 

"Stampede,  stampede !"—"  W.  H.  D.  Corlis, 
Corlis !  "  swelled  the  cry. 

The  pandemonium  was  contagious,  both  in  its 
enthusiasm  and  its  farce.  For,  as  is  only  possible 
in  America,  the  excitement  was  at  once  hysterical 
and  calculated,  men  going  wild,  yet  each  "  keeping 
his  eye  peeled." 

McBride  leaned  over  the  back  of  the  chair 
which  held  Senator  Dawes. 

"  How  do  you  size  it  up,  Senator?  "  said  he. 
218 


The   Mills   of  Man 

The  old  man  turned  his  head,  a  strange  smile, 
ironical  yet  propitiatory,  curving  his  shaven  lip. 

"  I  guess  it'll  have  to  do,"  was  all  he  said. 

"  Then,  by  God,  it's  now  or  never,"  swore  the 
Boss.  "  Suppose  we  ought  to  show  ourselves, 
oughtn't  we?  Your  fellers  need  an  example  set 
'em,  Senator." 

"  Uncle  Simeon  "  got  limply  to  his  feet.  Mrs. 
Corlis  read  his  back. 

McBride  pushed  a  path  through  the  struggling 
wall  about  the  Chairman. 

u  Stand  back,  damn  you,  stand  back!  "  he  or 
dered  with  the  brusqueness  of  a  cavalry  brigadier. 
"  Senator  Dawes  has  got  to  get  in  front." 

To  see  the  better,  Mrs.  Corlis,  like  everybody 
else  at  this  crucial  moment,  stood  upon  her  chair. 

McBride  with  Senator  Dawes  had  broken 
through.  The  Boss  now  stood  upon  the  right  hand 
of  the  Chairman;  the  Senator  stood  upon  his  left. 
Each  put  an  arm  out,  resting  a  hand  on  a  shoulder 
of  Mr.  Corlis.  And  thus  the  Triumvirate  con 
fronted  the  Convention. 

"  Warm  work,"  remarked  the  Chairman  coolly 
to  his  colleagues. 

"  It'll  work  dead  easy,"  declared  McBride. 

"  It's  an  ovation,"  observed  the  Senator. 

The  Convention  had  gone  crazy. 


219 


XXIII 
"MAGNIFICENT,  BUT  NOT  WAR" 

THEN  it  was  that  a  ludicrous  incident  oc 
curred,    such    that    the    thousand   delegates, 
pulling  up  in  their  enthusiasm  for  a  minute, 
howled  for  the  pure  humor  of  the  thing. 

The  Triumvirate  had  been  augmented  to  a 
Quartette.  The  three  mastiffs  had  been  joined  by 
a  spaniel.  The  latter  had  wedged  himself  unex 
pectedly  between  long  "  Uncle  Simeon  "  Dawes 
and  the  elegant  Corlis.  He  was  small,  white- 
haired,  pink  skinned,  and  he  lifted  up  his  hand  to 
the  Chairman's  broad  chest;  he  could  not  reach 
higher.  But  the  action  signified,  since  no  voice 
could  pierce  that  pandemonium,  that  the  two  hun 
dred  odd  votes  of  the  "  gentlemen  and  scholars  " 
were  at  Corlis'  disposal. 

Irrepressible  smiles  spread  over  the  countenances 
of  the  Senator  and  the  Boss.  The  delegates  trans 
lated  those  smiles  into  shrieks  of  laughter  and 
deafening,  ironical  yells  and  cat-calls.  The  Chair 
man  alone  did  not  share  the  mirth;  he  took  the  re 
former's  hand  and  seemed  to  thank  him.  The 
self-important  creature  smiled  and,  turning  to 
the  delegates,  bowed  his  rapturous  appreciation 

220 


The  Mills  of  Man 

of  their  vociferous  appreciation.  The  action 
crowned  the  farce;  it  upset  entirely  the  American 
sense  of  humor.  The  Convention  screamed ;  they 
slapped  one  another  on  the  back  and  doubled  up 
in  fits. 

The  unconscious  subject  and  occasion  of  their 
hilarity  continued  smiling,  obviously  pleased  with 
the  opportunity  of  exhibiting  his  good  breeding  to 
a  majority  who  had  it  not.  He  retired  finally, 
blushing  like  a  school-boy  who  has  taken  a  prize. 

He  was  Arthur  Hillis  Collar,  idealist,  purist, 
gentleman,  but  no  humorist  or  sympathizer  with 
human  nature.  He  knew  largely  how  it  ought  to 
be ;  insufficiently  how  it  is.  He  led  a  movement 
every  year  in  Chicago  against  "  the  dominance  of 
a  vulgar  Boss,"  and  every  other  year  in  the  state 
against  "  the  methods  of  a  corrupt  Machine." 
But  he  was  not  proof  against  the  seductions  of  Re 
spectability,  and  next  day,  in  an  interview,  re 
marked  that  "  the  better  element  had  forced  the 
nomination  of  a  respectable  citizen  upon  the  re 
luctant  politicians." 

The  joke  was  finishing,  and  the  delegates  were 
preparing  to  renew  their  fervor  and  their  demon 
stration,  to  complete  the  stampede,  in  short,  when 
a  man  struggled  through  the  human  tangle  on  the 
platform,  twisting,  crawling,  lunging  desperately 
his  way,  behind  him,  helping  to  confirm  the  open- 

221 


The   Mills   of  Man 

ing  with  his  elbows  and  shoulders,  a  strapping 
farmer-boy. 

He  emerged  upon  the  platform's  edge,  over 
which  his  toes  projected.  The  farmer  at  his  back 
pushed  and  shoved  until  a  small  half  ring  was 
formed  with  space  to  turn  in. 

The  man  sprang  erect  and  flung  up  long  arms 
at  the  Convention;  it  was  a  frantic  appeal  to  be 
heard  in  the  face  of  a  wall  of  sound.  He  turned 
head  and  arm  toward  the  Chairman  and  impera 
tively  demanded  recognition.  He  was  Governor 
Ransom. 

Corlis  bent  to  the  Boss,  who  emphatically  shook 
his  head.  The  Chairman  turned  to  the  Senator, 
who  nodded  gravely.  Thereupon  the  Chairman 
threw  up  an  open  left  hand  and  swung  his  gavel 
with  his  right.  All  the  howling  assembly  saw  that 
he  had  disregarded  McBride's  advice.  Their  curi 
osity  was  lit. 

Dramatic  possibilities  impended;  to  allow  them 
way  the  uproar  died  down  somewhat;  the  gal 
leries  paused.  Corlis  waved  a  hand  at  Ransom 
and  with  a  smile  took  advantage  of  the  moment 
to  ask  by  gesture  the  indulgence  of  the  Conven 
tion  for  his  enemy. 

It  had  a  generous  semblance,  and  the  assembly 
liked  the  chivalry;  it  was  an  appeal  for  fair  play 
for  his  arch  foe.  There  are  arts,  subtler  than  elo- 

222 


The   Mills  of  Man 

quence,  whereby  the  humor  of  a  political  conven 
tion  may  be  pleased. 

McBride  dinned  in  Corlis'  ear, 

"  It's  a  damn  long  chance  you're  takin'.  Mind 
you,  it  ain't  easy  to  set  'em  off  again." 

The  Chairman  from  his  height  cried  back, 

"Teach  you  a  trick  this  time,  McBride;  I 
know  what  I'm  doing." 

"  Faith,  I  hope  so,"  growled  the  Boss;  "  you're 
the  only  one  what  does." 

Corlis  soothed  the  murmur  of  the  Convention 
with  outspread  palms.  Then  he  withdrew  a  foot 
and  bowed  to  Ransom,  as  if  to  say, 

"  I've  hushed  the  flood  for  you;  now  embark 
on  it,  if  you  dare." 

Ransom  sprang  at  the  opportunity;  he  did  not 
wait  to  so  much  as  recognize  his  magnanimous 
rival.  Mrs.  Corlis  made  a  mental  note. 

Stillness  reigned;  men  held  their  breath  until 
the  Governor  should  begin. 

'  You  dare  not,  you  dare  not,  Republicans  of 
Illinois,"  he  shrilled,  "  nominate  this  plutocrat 
and  money-master  upon  a  platform  explicitly  bi 
metallic  and  in  spirit  democratic!  " 

His  voice  mounted  with  every  word,  until  he 
flung  the  challenge  forth  in  such  a  clarion  pitch 
that  it  pierced  the  dullest  ear  and  carried  to  the 
farthest  wall. 

He  paused  to  let  it  carry.  Tall,  slim,  erect,  he 
223 


The   Mills   of  Man 

stood,  meriting  his  sobriquet  of  the  "  Egyptian 
Palm."  The  compact  head,  its  high  temples  bare, 
was  a  little  thrown  back,  the  dark  eyes  beneath  the 
low  broad  forehead  flaming  like  live  coals.  The 
face  was  thin  with  passion,  coarseness  and  the 
stains  of  dissipation  quite  burned  out  in  the  intense 
fire  of  the  crisis,  leaving  the  features  pure  in  their 
original  classicism,  in  the  dignity  of  their  antique 
Roman  mould. 

He  framed  his  declaration  to  another  text  and 
hung  it  high  for  all  to  see.  He  insulted  their  dis 
sent  so  strenuously  that  amazement  held  them 
rigid  with  the  instantaneous  wish  to  learn  how  far 
audacity  might  carry  him.  Picturesque  and  grand 
iose,  his  championship  of  a  forlorn  hope,  his  de 
fiance  of  a  huge  majority,  caught  his  hearers' 
fancy.  In  that  city  of  the  enemy  he  had  subdued 
delegates  and  galleries  alike  to  attention. 

It  had  fared  ill  then  with  any  hardy  fool  who 
had  interposed  his  howl.  Ransom  had  w'on  his 
hearing. 

He  felt  he  had,  and  instantly  he  changed  his 
method.  He  abandoned  challenge  and  adopted 
logic.  His  swift  words — he  was  the  most  rapid 
speaker  in  the  state — flew  forth  distinct  as  notes 
carried  from  a  resonant  bell,  but  barbed  like  bul 
lets  from  a  rifle's  barrel. 

He  showed  the  contradiction;  he  proved  the 
disparity;  he  compared  the  platform  with  the  can- 

224 


The   Mills  of  Man 

didate.  And  after  demonstration,  to  supply  an 
eating  acid  to  his  logic,  he  let  loose  scorn  and  fury, 
vituperation  and  what  seemed  the  bottled  hatred 
of  a  lifetime.  He  peeled  his  living  victim  before 
the  eyes  of  the  Convention,  as  a  boy  peels  a  wil 
low  wand.  The  while  his  victim,  bland  and  cool, 
with  no  least  sign  of  perturbation  or  of  anger  on 
his  handsome  face,  stood  with  gavel  in  his  hand, 
ready  to  rebuke  any  interruption  to  the  speaker. 

Ransom  was  closing  his  short  speech. — This 
was  the  cheat,  he  said,  which  Boss  and  Magnate 
had  combined  to  foist  upon  honest  men  with  an 
honest  cause — a  cheat  of  words.  The  platform 
was  a  lie,  it  was  a  mockery,  condemned  as  such  by 
debasing  it  into  a  footstool  and  a  pedestal  for  a 
candidate  who  belied  its  principles  and  despised  its 
framers.  True  men,  men  possessed  of  an  honest 
faith,  were  to  be  drugged  into  acquiescence  by  the 
opium  of  false  pretenses  while  attired  in  the  stolen 
livery  of  the  people;  a  corporation  candidate,  who 
had  fattened  on  corporation  plunder  all  his  life, 
conspired  to  sneak  into  the  governor's  chair,  there 
to  coin  into  commercial  gold  the  people's  hopes, 
the  people's  rights. 

And  these  were  his  last  words : 

"  Nominate  this  man  and  you  perjure  your 
selves,  you  stultify  your  platform.  Nominate  him 
and  you  will  lose  in  November.  Thereby  you  will 
proclaim  your  belief  that  the  people  are  fools,  that 

225 


The   Mills  of  Man 

you  can  offer  them  bread  in  a  platform  and  palm 
off  a  stone  for  a  candidate.  I  am  a  life-long  Re 
publican  and  I  have  participated  in  the  delibera 
tions  of  this  Convention;  therefore,  I  cannot  with 
grace  walk  out  of  this  hall.  But  dare  any  man  of 
you  tell  me  I  can  with  consistency  vote  next  No 
vember  for  this  bilingual  product  of  your  august 
deliberations — a  platform  of  silver  and  a  nominee 
all  gold!" 

He  finished.  The  Convention  sat  stunned;  the 
brilliancy  had  been  that  of  too  vivid  lightning. 

Before  Egypt  even  recovered  sufficiently  to 
cheer  her  champion,  Chairman  Corlis,  with  superb 
composure  and  fascinating  smile,  inquired  what 
the  pleasure  of  the  Convention  might  be.  Caesar, 
courting  the  crowd,  had  not  more  pleasing  accom 
modation;  condescension  became  Corlis. 

Egypt  saw  she  was  outgeneraled;  she  roared 
too  late. 

'Vote,  vote,  vote!"  came  like  timed  volleys 
from  the  trained  ranks  of  McBride. — "  Vote, 
vote,  vote!  "  the  refrain  was  taken  up.  It  spread; 
it  submerged  the  Egyptian  clamor.  It  was  im 
perious,  not  to  be  denied. 

Temper  had  changed.  Before  the  speech,  the 
Convention  had  been  white-hot;  now  it  was  steely 
cold.  Ransom  had  persuaded  no  one;  his  impre 
cations  had  but  crystallized  the  majority's  deter 
mination.  His  declaration  was  magnificent,  but 

226 


The   Mills   of  Man 

it  was  not  politics.  Probably  he  had  despaired  of 
politics,  and  so  had  resolved  to  make  it  war. 

The  delegates  could  now  be  counted  to  do  the 
work  relentlessly. 

At  least,  that  seemed  McBride's  judgment, 
when  Corlis  consulted  him. 

"  Can  they  be  depended  on?  " 

"  Yep,  let  'em  take  the  bit.  That  yap  has  made 
'em  tired.  They  want  to  get  down  to  bizness. 
It's  dead  safe." 


227 


A 


XXIV 

HER   HERO 

WOMAN,  spectator  of  the  struggle  be 
tween  men,  may,  so  she  have  mind,  attain 
something  of  the  impartiality  of  the  artist. 
Masculine  egoism,  at  least,  does  not  stigmatize 
her  vision.  Besides,  to  woman  the  game  seems  al 
ways  worth  the  candle.  What  to  man  is  a  sordid 
or  a  farcical  contention,  ever  appears  to  her  melo 
dramatic  fancy  a  fine  and  heroic  piece. 

So  with  Mrs.  Corlis.  Driving  homewards  in 
the  gathering  darkness,  with  J.  J.  J.  at  her  side, 
her  imagination  was  still  alight  with  scenes  from 
the  Convention — a  tumult  of  impressions,  a  pano 
rama  of  animated  episodes,  varied  by  a  few  grand 
pictures  of  the  whole  hall  and  crowd. 

Her  mind  recreated,  spontaneously,  incessantly. 
It  restored  that  boisterous  lake  of  men,  ringed  by 
the  clamorous  galleries;  and  in  the  midst  the  plat 
form,  a  low  island  beaten  with  the  assaulting  surf 
of  the  "  stampede."  The  electric  glare,  the  pallid 
faces,  the  unleashed  passions,  the  will,  the  mad 
ness — all  the  contrasted  colors  and  furious  aspects 
of  that  half-hour's  scene  were  vividly  recast. 
Again  she  saw  that  straight,  defiant  figure;  again 

228 


The  Mills  of  Man 

she  felt  the  sudden  silence  he  evoked;  again  she 
heard  the  winged  words  that  flew  and  stung  and 
challenged.  And  the  thrill  flashed  through  her 
once  again,  the  exultant  thrill  that  follows  the  wit 
nessing  of  a  strong  deed,  of  a  deed  of  genius. — 
One  man,  by  sheer  force  of  passion,  had  awed  ten 
thousand;  one  man  had  held  a  mob  as  a  fearless 
hunter  might  hold  a  snarling  wolf — by  the  ears. 
One  man  had  told  his  assembled  enemies  the  un 
welcome  truth. 

Still  shone  for  her  that  lonely  figure,  about 
whose  form  her  fancy,  from  the  high  romance  of 
forlorn  hopes  and  fables  of  defeated  champions, 
wove  gleams  and  splendors. 

But  there  intruded  a  new  picture  and  shunted 
the  old  down  to  forgetfulness ;  so  success  ousts 
failure.  The  new  picture — a  climbing  peak  of  ac 
claiming  men,  a  quivering  pyramid  of  flags  and 
standards  and  shaken  hats,  an  unquenchable  roar 
and  miraculous  commotion,  and  at  the  top,  the 
summit  and  the  crown  of  it,  a  figure  lifted  up,  a 
Caesarean  head,  a  pale  countenance,  smiling,  im 
perturbable  !  Above  a  tempest  of  human  intem 
perance,  this  one  face  of  cool  comprehension  and 
invincible  poise!  To  his  wife  incontestably  his 
was  the  eminence  of  the  demigod. 

J.  J.  J.  disturbed  the  circuit  of  her  thoughts. 
'  What    did    you    think    of    the    hullabaloo, 
229 


The   Mills   of  Man 

Vicky?"  His  tone  was  irreverent.  "Appeared 
to  me  something  like  a  backyard  cat  concert." 

"  Oh,  Uncle  Johnny,  you  are  such  a  depred 
ator." 

"  Humph,  you  get  to  be  when  you  are  ac 
quainted  with  the  inside,  the  inside  of  anything. 
The  wheels  behind  ain't  gilded  up  like  the  clock 
face  before." 

"  But  illusions — even  they  are  something." 

'  They  are  ignorance,"  he  declared,  but  not  un 
kindly. 

"  I  know  just  how  you  feel.  You're  making  he 
roes,  Vicky,  that's  what  you're  doing.  You  had 
better  talk  to  me  instead.  Your  Uncle  Johnny 
may  be  plain,  but  he'll  never  disappoint  you,  de 
pend  on  that." 

Mrs.  Corlis  understood,  but  she  disregarded 
what  he  implied. 

"  Oh,  I  would  not  have  missed  it  for  the  world; 
I  think  it  was  simply  great !  "  she  cried,  like  a 
young  girl. 

"  Great  dust,  great  noise,  many  people.  Not 
great  men.  The  sentiment  and  claptrap  was  all 
rigged  up  beforehand,  planned  in  some  hotel  or 
saloon  by  fat-stomached  Irishmen  and  others  who 
spit  on  the  floor." 

"  I'll  not  hear  it,  Uncle  Johnny,  I  will  not!  I 
prefer  to  be  fooled." 

Mr.  Jarrett  said  no  more  upon  that  theme. 
230 


The  Mills  of  Man 

But  he  watched  her  solicitously  through  the  din 
ner  they  ate  alone  together,  and  afterwards  he  sat 
silently  with  her,  while  she  pretended  to  read. 

She  hardly  pretended,  but  let  the  book  fall 
upon  her  lap  and  stared  with  large  eyes  above  it. 
She  had  given  orders  that  she  was  not  at  home  to 
any  one  that  night;  for  her  nerves  had  been  tried 
sufficiently  that  day,  and  she  wished  to  think  and 
feel. 

Presently,  however,  telegrams  began  pouring  in, 
congratulations  for  her  husband,  some  for  her 
self.  They  were  messages  from  her  friends  in 
Washington,  in  New  York,  at  Newport.  She 
tired  of  reading  them  very  soon,  and  directed  that 
they  be  left  to  accumulate  until  next  morning. 

She  was  thinking,  thrilling.  She  was  a  little 
self-condemnatory,  but  chiefly  very  happy. 

She  felt  she  understood  now,  as  she  never  had 
before,  how  what  he  styled  her  Puritanism  irri 
tated  him.  Truly,  it  was  her  provinciality  which 
had  been  at  fault,  and  not  the  perversities  of  his 
nature.  That  afternoon's  revelation  of  his  great 
ness  altered  the  standards  she  used  to  judge.  She 
understood  him  now;  and  all  these  years  she  had 
been  girding  at  a  Lorenzo  de  Medici  in  vain  dis 
satisfaction  because  he  was  not,  forsooth,  a  mid 
dle-class  gentleman.  What  she  had  required  was 
impossible;  what  she  expected  him  to  be,  a  para 
dox.  A  man  cannot  succeed  Napoleonically  and 

231 


The  Mills  of  Man 

retain  the  domestic  virtue  and  spic  and  span  mo 
ralities  of  the  late  Prince  Consort. 

But  his  greatness  was  now  demonstrated;  that 
gave  her  keenest  joy.  But  even  so,  the  joy  was 
less  than  the  relief.  For  his  infidelities  had  been 
so  hard  to  bear;  his  cynical  estimates  of  men  and 
things  had  sometimes  seemed  so  cheap.  It  had 
nearly  been  her  shame,  at  times,  to  know  that  she 
loved  him,  that  he  so  dominated  her  senses  as  to 
compromise  her  spirit.  How  different  now !  She 
could  not  only  love  him  openly  even  to  herself,  but 
she  could  be  proud.  Her  devotion  was  to  no  taw 
dry  hero;  nay,  it  constituted  a  glad  sacrifice,  such 
as  the  wives  of  great  men  ever  had  been  called 
upon  to  yield.  Yet  he  had  only,  assumed  a  privi 
lege  of  greatness,  and  for  the  privilege  of  being 
wife  to  a  great  man,  a  noble  woman  willingly 
would  pay. 

With  her  readjusted  estimate  her  woman's 
heart  went  out;  she  would  beg  forgiveness  for 
her  narrow-mindedness;  she  would  recompense 
him  in  the  future  for  all  those  blind  lost  years. 

The  future !  Recollection  came  like  a  stab — 
her  future  would  not  be  long  enough  to  do  it  in. 

She  went  upstairs  to  have  herself  arrayed. 
When  her  great  man  came  home  to  her  after  his 
day  of  triumph,  he  should  find  a  wife  royally  at 
tired,  wearing  her  diamonds,  besprinkled  with 
pearls,  all  to  honor  him.  If  she  were  not  beautiful 

232 


The   Mills   of  Man 

or  young,  she  was  assured  she  could  be  at  least 
what  he  more  highly  valued,  sumptuous  and  regal. 
She  would  find  favor  in  his  eyes,  when  her  pomp 
proclaimed  to  him  what  was  the  truth,  that  he 
owned  a  wife  whom  in  riches  and  in  power  not 
five  women  in  all  America  could  surpass. 


233 


XXV 

HIS   HOME-COMING 

THE  house  was  very  still,  and  Mrs.  Corlis 
walked  to  and  fro  through  its  wide  rooms, 
dim  except  for  the  reflection  from  the  illu 
mined  hall.  Mr.  Jarrett  had  gone  to  bed  and  the 
servants  had  disappeared;  only  one  sleepy  foot 
man  remained  nodding  in  the  entry  by  the  great 
street-door. 

As  she  wandered  through  the  stretch  of  rooms, 
her  mind  went  running  back  among  the  years,  fif 
teen  of  them,  that  she  had  been  a  married  woman. 
They  had  been  years  of  service;  the  recognition  of 
that  fact  was  not  new  to  her.  That  they  also  had 
proved  years  of  success,  of  helping  a  great  man  to 
his  own,  was  new.  And  the  consolation  afforded 
by  this  new  perception,  she  hugged  tightly  to  her 
heart. 

It  allowed  her  to  recall  more  fondly  than  she 
had  been  able  to  recall  for  years,  the  particulars 
of  her  romance  and  of  the  life  they  had  lived  to 
gether.  How  he  had  entered  in  his  calm,  master 
ful  manner  and,  as  at  a  stroke,  altered  all  the 
world  for  her;  how  she  had  picked  him  out  her 
self  and  taken  him  up,  so  to  speak,  with  the  ca- 

234 


The   Mills  of  Man 

price  of  royalty;  how  she  had  fought  the  battle 
with  her  father  and  her  uncle,  compelling  them  to 
welcome  him!  Then  after  she  had  married  him, 
what  had  she  not  done  in  his  behalf:  given  him 
opportunity,  pleaded  with  her  Uncle  Johnny  for 
his  advancement,  shaped  her  \vhole  career  to  ac 
cord  with  his  ambitions,  conquered  a  leadership  in 
fashionable  society  to  gratify  his  vanity.  In  truth, 
she  had  donned  his  livery  and  worn  his  crest. 

Withal  she  could  not  truthfully  affirm  that  she 
had  influenced  him  perceptibly,  or  changed  the  or 
bit  of  his  course  her  finger's  breadth.  Bluntly  put, 
he  had  used  her  as  a  ladder  by  which  to  climb. 
The  perception  of  this  truth  had,  heretofore,  been 
her  bitterness;  now  she  .conceived  of  it  as  her 
glory,  held  the  sweeter  because  of  the  sacrifice  it 
had  entailed. 

She  had  met  Walter  Corlis  first  in  Washington. 
He  was  then  a  clerk  in  one  of  the  government  de 
partments  at  a  salary  of  fifteen  hundred  a  year. 
He  was  born  in  New  York,  where  his  father  had 
been  a  local  politician  and  small  contractor,  ad 
mired  for  his  tailor-like  appearance,  popular  on 
account  of  his  geniality,  and  considered  as  one  of 
the  few  gentlemen  attached  to  Tammany  Hall. 
His  mother  was  a  Virginian,  who  boasted,  when 
none  were  present  to  deny  her  fabrications,  of  the 
feudal  magnificence  of  her  family  before  the  war. 
Corlis  himself  affected  to  rely  upon  his  pedigree, 

235 


The  Mills  of  Man 

but  in  reality  he  trusted  his  future  to  his  good 
looks  and  his  manner  of  distinction.  Most  of  his 
salary  was  put  upon  his  back. 

Mrs.  Corlis  could  remember  her  exact  impres 
sion  the  first  time  she  saw  him.  His  hair  was 
raven  black  and  his  skin  clear  and  without  color. 
His  surfaces  possessed  a  marmorean  texture,  and 
she  had  thought  immediately  of  statuary.  His 
figure  increased  the  effect,  as  of  a  young  god: 
while  under  six  feet,  his  symmetry  was  stately,  the 
shoulders  broad,  the  chest  deep,  and  the  limbs  en 
dowed  with  a  natural  grace. 

He  was  but  upon  the  edges  of  society;  yet  he 
had  admirers  and  friends  who  spoke  well  of  him. 
He  was  very  active  in  a  fashionable  Episcopal 
church,  and  very  grateful  for  any  recognition 
from  the  least  of  those  above  him.  His  character 
istics  commended  him.  The  union  of  beauty  and 
strength,  his  possession  of  suavity  and  pride,  im 
pressed  women  more  than  could  intellect,  which  is 
open  to  challenge,  or  character,  which  is  open  to 
doubt.  Besides,  it  was  that  period  in  our  social 
development  when  a  gentlemanly  young  man  had 
a  value  for  his  own  sake. 

How  promptly  she  had  fallen  in  love  with  him. 
And  he,  despite  his  gratitude  and  his  humility,  had 
rather  accepted  the  condescension  as  perhaps 
his  due,  than  on  his  own  account  wooed  and  won 

236 


The   Mills   of  Man 

the  richest  heiress  and  most  brilliant  toast  of  the 
capital. 

Her  father  had  endeavored  to  remonstrate,  or, 
at  least,  to  postpone  the  finality.  He  was  not  op 
posed  because  of  the  young  clerk's  impecuniosity. 
But  he  had  formed  intellectual  ambitions  for  his 
daughter;  he  wished  her  to  marry  some  man  of 
genius,  some  future  leader  of  the  nation.  He 
cherished  a  scholarly  admiration  for  the  women 
of  the  French  salons,  and,  in  view  of  his  daugh 
ter's  reputation  for  wit  and  of  her  friendships 
with  statesmen,  he  had  dreamed  that  she  might,  in 
Washington,  repeat  the  achievements  of  Dolly 
Madison  and  of  Kate  Chase. 

She  had  appealed  from  her  father  to  her  uncle. 

"  Come  over  and  help  me,"  she  wrote. 

J.  J.  J.  replied, 

"  Of  course,  if  that  is  what  you  want.  Only  be 
sure  you  are  not  fooled."  And  he  hastened  back 
from  Europe  to  look  the  young  man  over  and  to 
gratify  his  darling,  if  he  could. 

"  Um,"  he  exclaimed,  and  combed  his  loose 
beard  with  his  fingers.  "  He's  nobody's  fool> 
Vicky.  Might  be  a  little  more  so  for  my  taste. 
His  eye's  mighty  cool,  and  I  guess  he  likes  lux 
uries  and  to  have  people  bow  to  him." 

She  had  flamed  out  magnanimously,  "  If  you 
mean  he  wants  money,  Uncle  Johnny,  why 
shouldn't  he,  and  why  shouldn't  he  have  it,  too? 

237 


The   Mills   of  Man 

He  is  a  gentleman  and  entitled  to  it.  Besides,  he's 
fitted  to  adorn  any  position,  and  I  do  not  want  him 
to  feel  the  lack  of  money  any  more." 

J.  J.  J.  looked  at  his  niece  and  quietly  capitu 
lated. 

''  Well,  well,  Vicky,  I  guess  your  Uncle  Johnny 
'11  have  to  see  about  it." 

To  Senator  Dawes  he  said: 

"  Simeon,  it  ain't  any  use  opposing  her.  Her 
mind's  set,  I  guess,  and  that  sort  of  set  she  gets 
good  and  plenty  from  both  sides  of  the  house." 
A  twinkle  illumined  J.  J.  J.'s  eye. 

He  proved  more  than  liberal;  he  sent  them  to 
Europe  for  their  wedding  tour  and  he  afterwards 
made  Corlis  his  representative  in  Chicago.  He 
built  her  a  house  on  the  Lake  Shore  Drive  and  he 
bought  her  a  cottage  at  Newport.  He  gave  her 
securities  and  properties,  besides  yearly  adding  to 
his  gifts  until  she  was  counted  one  of  the  richest 
women  in  her  own  right  in  America.  He  helped 
Corlis  consistently  and  acknowledged  the  latter's 
great  capacity;  nevertheless,  he  made  it  impolitely 
plain  that  Corlis  shared  his  favor  and  was  ad 
vanced  because  "  Vicky  said  so." 

Mrs.  Corlis  had  ceased  her  walking  and  now 
lay  half-reclined  on  a  window-seat  in  the  dimmest 
corner  of  the  drawing-room.  And  as  her  mind 
moved  back  through  recollection's  maze,  it  chose 
to  dwell  upon  the  pleasing  things  of  her  marriage, 

238 


The   Mills   of  Man 

and  to  slight  what  she  had  suffered.  But,  despite 
the  gladness  the  recognition  of  her  husband's  suc 
cess  had  brought  to  her,  despite  the  relief  occa 
sioned  by  the  demonstration  of  his  greatness, 
strive  as  she  might,  she  could  not  wholly  eject 
from  her  consciousness  a  dully  remorseful  convic 
tion  that  she  herself  had  deteriorated.  For  him 
she  had  done  everything,  even  changed  her  ideals. 
Had  it  cost  her  soul  nothing? 

She  was  roused  by  the  striking  of  a  clock  four 
times.  She  half  sat  up. 

'  The   conference   with   those   politicians   must 
have  been  interminable,"  was  her  thought. 

Then  she  heard  a  sound  in  the  hall  and  she 
knew  he  had  come.  She  started  to  her  feet, 
smoothing  out  her  skirts.  She  was  trembling  as 
she  went  forward;  she  hoped  she  was  not  disar 
rayed.  She  stood  back  a  bit  from  the  broad 
stream  of  light  that  came  in  from  the  hall.  She 
could  hear  his  slow  steps  on  the  marble  and  she 
shrank,  she  was  so  eager. 

As  he  came  through  the  doors,  with  an  effort 
she  stepped  into  the  light,  her  hands  outstretched 
to  welcome  him,  in  her  eyes  almost  a  bridal  loveli 
ness. 

He  stepped  toward  her  and  half  turned,  so  that 
the  light  struck  his  face.  She  stood  rooted,  turned 
to  stone. 

The  high  hat  on  his  head  was  tilted  and  his 


The  Mills  of  Man 

cravat  was  twisted  to  one  side.  His  frock  coat 
was  rumpled  and  unbuttoned  at  the  top.  His  face 
was  fixed  and  pallid  and  his  eyes  had  an  unseeing 
look. 

"  Victoria,"  he  commenced  with  gravity.  Only 
a  slight  tremor  was  in  his  voice.  '  You  under 
stand  I'm  a  statesman,  a  great  man,  a  statesman. 
I  am  Governor  Corlis,  his  excellency,  and  you're 
his  excellency's  wife.  You're  proud  of  me;  you 
ought  to  be  proud  of  me;  say  you  are." 

He  lurched  as  he  stood  and  put  an  arm  out  to 
restore  his  balance.  His  loose  hand  struck  a  Jap 
anese  vase  from  a  pedestal.  It  crashed  on  the 
hardwood  floor. 

"What's  that?"  He  peered  as  if  down  a 
precipice.  "  Oh,  that,  Victoria,  is  how  the  Sena 
tor  would  have  smashed,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  me. 
I  am  the  boss  of  the  bosses,  I  am !  I  run  McBride 
and  the  state." 

She  conquered  her  physical  repugnance.  His 
vinous  vanity  made  him  pitiable.  She  stepped 
close  to  him. 

"  Come,  Walter,  come.     I'll  help  you." 

He  was  filled  for  a  moment  with  maudlin  senti 
ment. 

;'  I  need  it,  Vicky.  You  are — too  good — to 
me." 

Was  it  fancy,  or  did  she  perceive  a  faint  odor 
of  Turkish  cigarettes?  She  laid  her  hand  on  his 

240 


The   Mills  of  Man 

breast  to  take  his  attention.  Her  fingers  felt 
silken  strands.  She  caught  back  her  hand,  as  if  it 
had  touched  fire.  Alive,  she  looked.  He  was 
turned  full  to  the  light  now,  and  nets  of  blonde 
hair  shone  on  the  breast  of  his  coat. 

She  stared,  then  recoiled  as  if  struck,  and  slid 
lifelessly  to  the  floor  at  his  feet. 

The  drunkard  apostrophized  above  her.  He 
babbled  of  his  own  glory,  of  his  power  and  com 
ing  fame. 

'*  I'll  be  the  foremost  American,"  he  vowed. 


241 


XXVI 

A  POLITICAL  BREAKFAST 

HER  mind  clung  tenaciously  to  the  concep 
tion  of  her  husband's  greatness,  and  if 
anywhere  her  mind  failed  in  faith,  her 
will  insisted  upon  its  truth. 

The  morning  papers  were  brought  in  to  her  with 
her  chocolate  and  she  scanned  their  columns  in 
bed.  Announcement  of  the  nominations  and  news 
of  the  Convention  led  the  front  page  of  every  one, 
the  name  of  the  nominee  for  governor  being 
printed  in  big,  black  type.  The  whole  first  page 
of  The  Pundit,  indeed,  was  occupied  by  a  picture 
of  Walter  H.  D.  Corlis,  while  directly  beneath,  in 
the  narrow  margin  left  at  the  bottom,  appeared  a 
summary  of  the  main  events  of  his  life.  Every 
paper,  besides,  devoted  two  columns  or  more  to 
an  account  of  the  man  and  his  remarkable  career. 
Their  reading  impressed  Mrs.  Corlis  with  the  fact 
that  the  editorial  imagination  had  been  captured 
just  as  that  of  the  Convention  had  been  won. 

It  was  evident  that  his  figure,  his  personality, 
his  good-fortune,  appealed  to  the  average  Ameri 
can  as  romantic;  that  his  success  was  about  what 
the  wide-awake  usual  man  would  have  desired  for 

242 


The   Mills  of  Man 

himself,  if  wishes  had  been  notes  of  demand. 
This  gentleman,  the  editors  virtually  said,  whom 
we  present  to  the  attention  of  the  public  this 
morning,  deserves  your  admiration :  he  is  the  son- 
in-law  of  Senator  Dawes,  the  husband  of  that 
leader  of  fashion,  Mrs.  Corlis,  the  representative 
in  Chicago  of  his  wife's  uncle,  J.  J.  Jarrett;  he  is 
a  millionaire  himself,  destined  ultimately  to  co 
lossal  wealth,  and  he  is  head  of  the  powerful  syn 
dicate  which  controls  Chicago's  transportation; 
he  has  now  been  nominated  for  governor,  he  will 
most  probably  be  elected,  and  as  he  is  an  astute 
politician  and  an  able  manager,  it  is  not  exaggera 
tion  to  declare  that  some  day  he  may  become 
President  of  the  United  States. 

The  Pundit's  picture  of  Mr.  Corlis  pleased  his 
wife.  The  longer  she  looked  at  it,  the  more  in 
clined  she  was  to  pronounce  it  remarkable.  In 
deed,  it  quite  fascinated  her  eye,  as,  she  fancied 
proudly,  it  must  have  fascinated  the  thousands 
who  had  seen  The  Pundit  that  morning.  The 
likeness,  she  felt,  reproduced  what  was  Mr.  Cor 
lis'  best  aspect,  certainly  his  strongest;  its  effect, 
she  repeated,  was  not  untrue,  although  she  owned 
that  it  was  favorable.  But  all  who  regarded  vic 
torious  beauty  in  a  man,  must  be  strongly  drawn 
by  it;  she  herself  not  the  least,  even  if  she  sus 
pected  the  Csesarean  line  in  the  profile  was  empha- 

243 


The   Mills   of  Man 

sized,  and  the  curvature  of  indulgence  luckily  or 
dexterously  suppressed. 

At  the  angle  presented  in  the  picture  the  nose 
showed  finely  aquiline  and  the  set  of  the  firm 
chin  indicated  resolution  and  sustained  fighting 
force,  while  the  arch  of  the  upper  head  bespoke 
the  moral  and  intellectual  balance  of  the  great 
man.  True,  there  were  idealizations,  or  better, 
perhaps,  accentuations  of  the  real;  yet  the  picture 
was  a  might-have-been  Mr.  Corlis,  nay,  Mr.  Cor- 
lis  as  he  essentially  was.  Gold,  she  told  herself, 
was  precious  gold,  whether  in  alloy  or  in  state  of 
purity. 

Mrs.  Corlis  was  to  give  a  small  political  break 
fast  that  morning  at  noon,  and  at  eleven  o'clock 
she  went  downstairs  to  review  the  arrangements, 
and  add  the  last  touches  with  her  own  hands  to 
the  table.  There  her  husband's  man  came  to  her 
to  say  that  Mr.  Corlis  was  dressing  and  wanted 
the  morning  papers. 

"  They  are  all  in  my  room;  ask  my  maid,"  she 
directed.  "  But  wait,"  she  amended,  "  I  will  take 
them  to  Mr.  Corlis  myself  in  a  moment."  It 
would  afford  her  an  opportune  chance,  she  re 
flected,  to  show  that  she  had  forgotten  the  event 
of  the  night  before. 

Bearing  the  voluminous  newspaper  sheets,  she 
stood  at  the  threshold  of  her  husband's  dressing- 
room.  He  was  dressed  except  for  his  coat,  and 

244 


The   Mills   of  Man 

standing  before  the  glass  parting  his  thinning  hair. 
She  admired  his  thin  waist,  set  off  by  his  waist 
coat,  and  fancied  how  well  he  looked  in  white 
shirt-sleeves. 

She  was  all  smiles. 

"  Like  Lord  Byron,  Walter,  you  awake  this 
fine  morning  to  find  yourself  famous.  Do  I  in 
trude?" 

"  Come  in,  Victoria."  He  dismissed  the  shade 
of  annoyance  that  had  appeared  in  his  face.  "  I 
am  honored." — Did  some  irony  linger  in  his 
tone? — "  Perhaps  I  may  owe  you  some  small  apol 
ogy  for  last  night.  Is  it  not  so?"  He  made  a  so 
licitous  bow  and  set  his  wife  a  chair. 

She  sat  down,  well  in  the  center  of  the  room. 

"  Oh,  I  think  of  nothing  this  joyful  morning 
but  of  what  the  newspapers  say,"  she  declared  cor 
dially.  "They're  grand,  Walter!"  And  she 
flaunted  them  gaily  before  his  eyes.  "  See,  see !  " 
she  cried. 

He  took  his  honors  easily. 

"  Pray  tell  me  about  them,  Victoria,  or  you 
might  read  me  extracts,  while  I  polish  myself  off 
for  your  show,"  he  smiled  good-humoredly.  Then 
he  yawned  a  bit.  "  Your  breakfast  has  pulled  me 
out  of  bed  a  little  too  soon,  I  fancy;  I  needed  an 
other  half  hour  for  perfection.  Wonder  how  the 
other  fellows  feel." 

She  disregarded  his  remarks.     "  How  do  you 

245 


The   Mills   of  Man 

like  this,  Walter?  "  she  inquired,  "  or  this  piece  of 
eulogy  " — "  And  this.  Is  not  this  a  great  com 
pliment?  " — "  Here  is  the  old  Times,  calling  you 
The  Man  Destined  to  be  President  " — "  Do  lis 
ten  to  this;  did  you  ever  dream  such  fine  things 
would  be  said  of  you?  " 

Her  enthusiasm  increased  to  rhapsody;  she 
brimmed  over  with  the  naive  joy  of  a  child. 

''  Why,  I  didn't  fancy  they  were  half  so  nice  till 
I  read  them,"  she  declared.  "  They  are  splendid. 
Oh,  I  am  so  pleased!  There's  nothing  in  all  the 
world,  Walter,  to  be  compared  with  hearing  you 
praised,  nothing  whatever. — And  the  picture  of 
you  in  The  Pundit,  is  it  not  just  the  best?  A 
chance  stroke  of  genius,  I  call  it. — Do  you  not  see, 
it  is  you  at  your  truest  and  greatest,  Walter, — you, 
as  I  always  think  to  myself  you  are." 

He  gave  signs  of  restlessness  under  this  grow 
ing  poetical  appreciation,  and  she  quickly  reverted 
to  earth.  "  Wherever  did  they  get  it  from,  I 
wonder?  " 

"  Glad  you  like  it,  Victoria — picked  it  out  for 
them  myself,"  Mr.  Corlis  explained,  as  he  gave  a 
last  brush  to  his  hair.  "  You  see  before  the  Con 
vention  yesterday  I  looked  over  all  the  photo 
graphs  I  had  ever  had  taken;  I  knew,  of  course, 
I  was  to  be  nominated  and  that  I'd  have  all  the 
newspapers  after  me  for  my  latest  picture.  So  I 
had  it  ready  for  them — never  neglect  the  press,  is 

246 


The  Mills  of  Man 

my  maxim.  Unfortunately  I  found  only  one  copy 
of  that  picture,  and  it  I  sent  'round  to  The  Pundit, 
with  the  request  that  they  use  it  if  they  meant  to 
publish  my  picture  at  all.  I  regretted  I  did  not 
have  more  of  them,  as  I  thought,  myself,  the  like 
ness  was  calculated  to  impress  people  pretty  well 
with  me."  He  ended  with  a  laugh. 

She  said  presently  she  must  go  look  after  her 
breakfast. 

"Whom  do  you  expect?"  her  husband  in 
quired.  "  I  suppose,  since  it  turns  out  I  am  the 
nominee,  I  must  consider  myself  the  guest  of 
honor." 

"  On  the  contrary,"  she  smiled  back.  "  It's  not 
you,  it's  the  Pater.  I  have  invited  a  number  of 
his  friends  to  meet  Mr.  McBride  and  some  of  the 
latter's  henchmen,  as  I  suppose  they  are  to  be 
called.  Mayor  Murphy  will  be  present  and  two 
other  Irishmen  besides." 

"  You  wish  to  rivet  your  alliance  for  time  and 
eternity,  I  see,"  laughed  Mr.  Corlis.  "  You  don't 
mean  to  let  anything  get  away  from  you." 

"  My  wish  is  to  promote  harmony,"  she  re 
joined.  "  Confess,  please,  I  have  managed  rather 
well." 

"  There  is  no  doubt  of  that,  Victoria — you're  a 
diplomat  of  the  first  water.  You  certainly  have 
reduced  McBride  to  obedience,  and  you've  an 
nexed  his  wife,  too."  He  added,  as  if  from  a  sud- 

247 


The   Mills   of  Man 

den  inspiration,  while  he  watched  her,  in  a  cau 
tious  aside,  "  I  only  wish  you  would  do  the  same 
by  that  obstreperous  old  friend  of  yours,  Governor 
Ransom.  If  he,  now,  were  to  be  one  of  your 
guests,  Victoria,  this  dinner  would  be  really  worth 
while." 

"  Would  it  not,"  she  frankly  agreed.  "  But 
the  conquest  of  a  boss,  I  fear,  is  a  light  task  com 
pared  to  that  of  a  governor;  especially  such  a  for 
midable  incorrigible  as  Randolph  Ransom."  She 
laughed  uneasily. 

"  Oh,  I'm  not  so  sure,"  he  urged.  "  You  must 
know  him  as  few  others  can.  I'd  like  to  have  you 
happen  to  meet  him  again,  I  can  tell  you ;  I  would 
bet  on  my  own  chances  more  cheerfully,  if  you 
did." 

Mrs.  Corlis  looked  at  her  husband  with  sudden 
sharpness.  Did  he  mean  what  he  said — or  rather, 
was  there  any  meaning  in  what  he  said?  But  Mr. 
Corlis  was  critically  surveying  his  clothed  figure 
in  the  glass,  and  his  face,  taken  up  with  small 
cares,  upon  the  large  point  of  her  anxiety  was  in 
scrutable. 

The  Convention  had  not  adjourned  the  night 
before  until  after  eleven  o'clock,  as  the  nomina 
tions  to  supplement  that  for  governor  could  not  be 
finished  at  an  earlier  hour.  The  politicians  who 
sat  down  to  Mrs.  Corlis'  breakfast  accordingly 
had  all  come  from  late  beds,  and  the  mood  of 

248 


The   Mills  of  Man 

none  of  them  could  be  described  as  brisk.  The 
nominee  himself  was  the  only  man  around  the 
board,  except  J.  J.  J.,  of  course,  who  did  not  bear 
marks  of  the  strain  the  week  had  been.  Mr.  Cor- 
lis  was  freshly  shaven,  just  out  of  his  tub,  as  gay 
and  debonair  as  if  he  had  been  an  irresponsible 
young  man  of  twenty-six,  instead  of  the  cool 
schemer  of  forty-five,  immersed  in  cares  and 
plenty  of  sins. 

At  the  right  hand  of  his  niece  sat  J.  J.  J.,  taci 
turn,  inquisitive,  dreamy,  holding  all  of  them  in 
his  fear.  Boss  McBride  held  the  seat  of  honor 
next  Mr.  Corlis,  while  Senator  Dawes  filled  that 
on  his  son-in-law's  other  hand.  Between,  complet 
ing  the  circle,  were  ranged  the  Senator's  friends, 
Crawford,  Wood,  and  Johnson,  alternating  with 
Mayor  Murphy  and  two  other  representatives  of 
the  Chicago  Machine.  Ruggles,  whom  Mrs.  Cor 
lis  had  invited  because  she  wished  him  to  meet  in 
timately  the  powers  she  had  assembled  at  her  ta 
ble,  was  placed  upon  the  hostess'  left,  since  she 
fancied  the  proximity  would  contribute  to  his  as 
surance,  as  well  as  to  the  respect  accorded  him  by 
the  others. 

Apart  from  the  power  of  her  arts,  Mrs.  Corlis 
was  singularly  attractive  that  morning.  Dark  cir 
cles  underscored  her  eyes,  her  mouth  could  not 
succeed  in  concealing  all  its  pain,  while  her  voice 
was  not  wholly  sure — it  trembled  slightly.  Su- 

249 


The   Mills   of  Man 

perficially  she  was  in  the  gayest  spirits,  and  it 
might  have  been  a  physical  mood  which  colored 
sadly  the  blitheness  of  her  tone.  Yet  those  men, 
who  were  in  awe  of  her,  overwhelmed  by  her  pres 
tige,  discovered,  subtly,  the  weakness  of  the 
woman  behind  the  confidence  of  the  grand  dame, 
and  if,  before,  they  had  been  disposed  to  kneel  in 
homage,  they  were  now  ready  to  bow  in  idolatry. 

As  it  turned  out,  the  breakfast  had  not  pro 
gressed  far  before  Governor  Ransom  became  the 
theme;  the  conversation  constantly  reverted  to 
him,  even  after  it  had  been  a  number  of  times  ob 
viously  led  into  other  directions. 

Mr.  Corlis,  to  notice  his  wife's  protege,  and, 
perhaps,  to  turn  the  subject  without  seeming  to  do 
so,  observed: 

'  That  was  a  brilliant  description  in  this  morn 
ing's  Pundit  of  the  Governor's  tour  de  force.  W«' 
are  to  suppose  you  guilty  of  it,  Mr.  Ruggles,  are 
we  not?  " 

Chris  reddened. 

"  Yes,  I  wrote  it,  Mr.  Corlis.  We  reporters,  as 
you  know,  are  required  to  advance  the  picturesque 
incident,  if  such  can  by  any  means  be  discovered," 
he  explained.  "  That  accounts  for  the  papers 
making  so  much  of  the  speech,  although  in  actual 
political  effect  it  probably  amounted  to  very  lit 
tle." 

"  Ransom  always  did  possess  the  faculty  of 
250 


The   Mills   of  Man 

seizing  the  dramatic  moment  and  getting  himself 
in  the  middle  of  the  stage,"  observed  Senator 
Dawes.  "  It  is  that  invariable  instinct  of  his  that 
keeps  him  before  the  public." 

"  But  what  of  it,"  rumbled  the  Boss,  "  it  all 
don't  help  him  none.  He's  helped  fill  up  the  pa 
pers  with  himself  this  morning,  and  yesterday  he 
stopped  proceedin's  for  a  bit;  but  he's  ousted 
from  the  committees,  and  he  didn't  turn  a  dele 
gate  from  where  he  was  to  go." 

The  Senator  was  disposed  to  argue. 

"I  don't  know,  McBride;  I'm  not  so  sure. 
That  it  was  a  powerful  deliverance  we  must  all 
admit,  and  well  as  I  know  the  Governor,  I  didn't 
think  he  had  it  in  him." 

"  But  what  did  the  whole  hullabaloo  amount  to 
at  that,  is  what  I  want  to  know,"  snorted  Mc 
Bride,  not  in  disdain  of  the  Senator,  but  in  con 
tempt  for  the  speech.  "  Mebbe  it  made  him  feel 
fine,  but  that's  all  he'll  get  out  of  it." 

"  Even  of  that  I'm  not  so  sure,"  replied  "  Un 
cle  Simeon  "  with  a  dryness  exasperating  to  Mc 
Bride.  "  These  newspapers  that  make  so  much 
of  the  speech  and  so  much  of  the  scene,  will  circu 
late  all  through  the  state;  thousands  will  read 
them,  thousands  will  be  impressed." 

"  Let  the  Governor  have  the  newspapers,  and 
the  processions,  too,  if  he  wants  'em  bad,"  the 
Boss  asserted,  "  so  we  get  the  delegates  in  Con- 

251 


The   Mills   of  Man 

vention   and   the   organization   afterwards.      It's 
them  that  produces  votes." 

"  No  doubt,  no  doubt,"  acquiesced  the  Senator, 
in  his  driest  and  drollest  manner,  "  but  there  is 
one  thing  you  don't  want  to  lose  sight  of,  Mc- 
Bride,  and  that's  the  little  joker,  called  Public 
Opinion.  Don't  get  it  stirred  up;  for,  if  you  do, 
the  peepul  will  be  heard." 

McBride  bristled.  Perhaps  he  felt  it  well  to 
show  his  followers  their  chief  was  too  big  a  man 
to  be  silenced  by  a  Senator;  but  Mr.  Corlis  suave 
ly  intervened : 

'  You  mistake  the  Senator,  excuse  me,  Mc 
Bride,  and  the  Senator  mistakes  you.  You  are 
thinking  of  Chicago,  naturally,  while  the  Senator 
is  thinking  of  the  state.  And  if  there  are  any  two 
who  know  more  about  each  respectively  than  you 
two,  let  the  pair  trot  out;  I  have  not  the  honor  of 
their  acquaintance."  He  smiled  and  paused. 

The  Senator  deferred;  the  Boss  looked  ap 
peased. 

"  You're  right  there,  Mr.  Corlis,"  Mayor  Mur 
phy  said. 

"  And  McBride  is  right,"  resumed  Mr.  Corlis, 
"  so  far  as  the  effect  of  the  speech  on  Chicago 
goes.  But  Governor  Ransom  was  not  talking  for 
Chicago's  benefit,  not  primarily  even  to  the  Con 
vention,  I  suppose.  From  that  platform  he  was 

252 


The   Mills   of  Man 

addressing  Illinois,  the  down-the-state  region,  and 
that  is  the  Senator's  old  stamping  ground." 

"  Well,  who  cares  ?  Lef  him  chin."  McBride 
threw  up  his  hands,  to  speak  figuratively;  the  sub 
ject  had  become  too  involved  for  him. 

"  That  is  the  trouble,  he  will,"  rejoined  Mr. 
Corlis.  "  Unless,  indeed,"  he  looked  quizzically 
about  the  table,  "  some  one  here  knows  how  to 
muzzle  him.  We've  no  man  down  the  state,  gen 
tlemen,  who  can  deliver  us  the  vote,  as  McBride 
here  can  Chicago's,  sealed,  sworn  to,  and  at 
tested."  He  paused  again.  "  Has  any  one  a 
plan?  "  he  asked. 

"  It  ain't  my  funeral,"  grunted  the  Boss;  "  it's 
not  inside  my  district." 

He  was  not  converted,  though  silenced.  At  this 
period  of  his  career  Chicago  constituted  the  sum 
and  boundary  of  the  knowledge  of  McBride:  it 
was  later,  and  through  defeat,  that  he  learned  the 
temper  of  the  state.  He  had  not  yet  acquired 
"the  polish"  he  was  gradually  to  take  on;  he 
was,  in  fact,  but  a  ward  boss  developed  into  a  city 
boss,  and  wistfully  anxious  for  some  recognition 
from  Springfield  and  from  Washington.  He  was 
as  ignorant  of  matters  without  Cook  County  as 
he  was  confirmed  in  the  correctness  of  his  judg 
ments  of  matters  within,  and  hence  his  severe 
skepticism  concerning  all  things  not  absolutely  un 
der  his  nose.  What  experience  had  taught  him 

253 


The   Mills   of  Man 

he  would  rigidly  apply  to  what  he  had  never  ex 
perienced, — a  positivism  not  monopolized  by  men 
of  the  type  of  McBride. 

At  this  juncture  Senator  Dawes  inclined  his 
head  just  perceptibly  in  the  reporter's  direction, 
and  winked  an  eye  in  slow  decorum. 

'  We  are  upon  the  verge  of  an  important  dis 
cussion  of  ways  and  means,"  he  suggested. 

"  Oh,  I  will  stand  sponsor  for  Mr.  Ruggles," 
quickly  declared  Mrs.  Corlis.  "  Mr.  McBride 
will  join  me  on  his  bond,  I  am  sure." 

"  Anything  you  want,  Mrs.  Corlis,"  the  Boss 
said,  answering  her  smile.  "  And,  young  feller," 
he  added,  addressing  Ruggles,  "  if  not  for  Mrs. 
Corlis,  I'd  do  it  on  Miss  Brown's  account."  His 
big  face  beamed  with  pleasure  for  the  "  one  he 
had  put  on  Chris."  Out  of  a  friendly  feeling  he 
admonished  him,  "  Remember  McBride,  when 
you  get  yourself  into  trouble." 

Chris  blushed,  a  phenomenon  which  Mr.  Corlis 
noted. 

"  So  that  is  her  name,"  hastily  whispered  Mrs. 
Corlis.  She  announced, 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  McBride.  Mr.  Ruggles,  I 
assure  everybody,  is  wholly  of  my  party,  and  his 
efforts,  I  fancy,  are  pledged  for  my  candidates." 

"  Ah,  I  drink  to  your  enlistment,  Mr.  Rug 
gles,"  smiled  Mr.  Corlis.  The  company  raised 
their  glasses,  enjoying  the  humor. 

254 


The   Mills  of  Man 

But  "  how  to  muzzle  Ransom  "  soon  reclaimed, 
as  a  subject,  the  attention  of  the  table.  If  each 
guest  was  heard  upon  the  question,  no  guest  pro 
posed  any  practicable  method.  The  best  sugges 
tion  came  from  Senator  Dawes,  who  had  been  the 
Governor's  intimate  political  friend  for  twenty 
years.  Finally  the  sense  of  them  all  confided  the 
matter  to  the  discretion  of  "  Uncle  Simeon,"  with 
the  understanding  that  the  latter  should  try  how 
far  his  influence  would  avail  with  his  former  lieu 
tenant. 

"  I  think  some  of  going  down  to  Primrose  Hill 
for  a  week,  to  rest  up  before  I  go  back  to  Wash 
ington,"  explained  the  Senator.  "And  mebbe  I  can 
induce  Governor  Ransom  to  drop  up  from  Spring 
field  for  a  day  to  sort  of  talk  it  over."  The  Sen 
ator  dug  a  fork  absent-mindedly  into  the  table 
cloth.  "  Now,  if  I  could  get  Mrs.  Corlis  to  go 
down  with  me  and  open  the  house  and  entertain  a 
Governor  as  he  should  be  entertained,  1  think  it 
might  help  some,"  he  said,  almost  slyly.  "  I  will 
appeal  to  the  gentlemen  present,"  he  smiled  be 
nignly  at  them  all.  "  Do  they  not  think  one  of 
Mrs.  Corlis'  breakfasts  might  go  pretty  far 
toward  persuading  the  Governor?  " 

Opinion  was  unanimous. 

*'  Give  him  one  of  them  dinners,  Mrs.  Corlis; 
it'll  sejuice  his  heart,"  cried  Boss  McBride  en 
thusiastically,  his  tongue  thick  from  wine. 

255 

17  M 


The  Mills  of  Man 

She  winced  at  the  verb. 

"  Oh,"  she  laughed  forcedly,  "  it  will  be  im 
possible  for  me  to  go  down.  I  can't  leave  Uncle 
Johnny,  can  I,  Uncle  Johnny?" 

J.  J.  J.  disagreed. 

"  Business  is  business,  Vicky.  I've  got  to  go 
East  to-morrow  again,  and  if  your  heart's  really 
set  on  carrying  this  election,  you  had  better  all  get 
after  that  man  Ransom.  He's  the  feller  to  be 
fixed,  I  guess," 


256 


XXVII 

CHARACTERISTICS 

I  WILL  do  all  I  can;  I  see  how  important  it 
is,"  she  finally  agreed.  "  I  am  not  clear  in 
my  mind  how  I  can  influence  Governor  Ran 
som,  but  if  I  can,  I  will.  As  you  say,  it  will  not 
do  for  us  to  leave  untried  any  chance,  and,"  she 
smiled  rather  pitifully,  "  I  suppose  I  am  a  chance." 

Mrs.  Corlis  spoke  thus  without  lifting  her  eyes 
to  her  husband,  who,  with  hat  and  gloves  in  hand, 
had  come  into  his  wife's  room  to  bid  her  good-by. 

'  Thank  you,  Victoria,"  he  expressed  himself 
gratefully,  "  I  am  sure  you  can  do  much,  if  you 
will.  You  are  as  clever  a  wife  as  ever  an  ambi 
tious  man  was  blessed  with,  and  I  wish  you  could 
know  how  much  I  admire  and  appreciate  you." 

Her  yearning  conquered  her  skepticism;  she  put 
back  her  head  to  give  him  a  deep  glance  from  her 
eyes. 

"Ah,  you  do,  a  little,  don't  you,  Walter?  I 
mean  something  to  you,  after  all — I  weigh  in  your 
life?" 

The  little  emotional  outburst,  quiet  and  un- 
dramatic  as  it  was,  annoyed  as  usual.  But  he  re 
pressed  the  irritation  and  politicly  bent  over  her 
chair,  lightly  to  kiss  her  cheek. 

257 


The   Mills   of  Man 

"What  do  I  not  owe  you,  Victoria?  Your 
council,  your  encouragement,  your  talent  for  man 
agement,  have  enabled  me  to  succeed  so  far.  If  I 
am  elected,  I  shall  know  whom  to  thank.  You 
must  not  think  ever  that  I'm  unappreciative,  be 
cause  at  times  I  find  it  hard  to  own  how  much  I 
have  been  made  by  my  wife." 

The  tears  sprang  into  her  eyes;  she  turned  her 
face  away  that  they  might  not  disturb  him. 

'  You  are  generous,  dear  Walter." 

"  We  part  the  best  of  friends  then,"  he  said, 
briskly.  He  looked  at  the  clock.  "  It's  a  quarter 
of  eleven  and  I  must  meet  McBride  down  town  on 
the  hour.  Good-by  and  good  luck." 

She  called  after  him, 

"  Rest  assured  I  will  do  all  that  I  can." 

She  was  not  assured  in  her  own  mind  that  she 
had  not  been  cajoled;  but  the  suspicion  was  un 
comfortable,  and  she  preferred  the  warmth  of  her 
heart's  glow,  even  if  it  were  inspired  by  an  un 
truth.  She  preferred  to  believe  he  had  testified, 
however  reluctantly,  to  her  importance  in  his  life; 
she  wished  to  be  convinced  that  she  had  a  function. 
That  function  she  knew  she  had  adequately  per 
formed.  What  woman  in  all  America  had  done 
for  her  husband  what  she  had  done — how  many 
were  capable  of  doing  it?  How  many  had  failed, 
when  they  tried. 

She  could  do  delicately  and  deftly  what  others 
258 


The   Mills   of  Man 

bungled;  she  was  a  power,  she  had  molded 
events.  She  compelled  her  husband's  respect  and 
earned  his  thanks.  She  it  was  who  had  brought 
about  the  reconciliation  between  her  father  and 
Boss  McBride,  which  had  enabled  her  husband 
to  be  named  by  the  Convention;  one  other  neces 
sity  existed  which  must  be  met  in  order  to  elect 
the  nominee,  and  tacit  consent  had  assigned  the 
duty  to  her.  She  felt  the  compulsion  of  the  obli 
gation;  she  was  constrained  by  the  honor  to  be 
won  of  her  husband's  approval;  she  was  influ 
enced  by  the  exigency  of  her  father's  reelection. 
Besides,  she  felt  the  drawing  spell  of  the  game, 
the  excitement  of  the  hazard,  and  she  increasingly 
desired  to  put  her  own  hand  to  the  tangle  and  to 
straighten  out  the  strings. 

Yet  this  woman,  instinct  now  with  the  crafty 
faculty  for  management,  was  the  same  who,  the 
day  before,  had  been  moved  to  a  benevolent  inter 
ference  in  behalf  of  a  love  affair  she  suspected  was 
not  moving  to  a  beneficent  conclusion.  She  had 
contrived,  after  the  breakfast,  to  isolate  Chris 
Ruggles  with  herself  for  ten  minutes. 

"  Chris,"  she  had  teased,  "  the  tall,  golden- 
crowned  young  woman  who  did  not  like  it  when  I 
went  over  to  speak  to  you  in  the  Convention,  I 
am  sure  was  the  Miss  Brown  Mr.  McBride  had 
his  joke  about." 

259 


The   Mills   of  Man 

"  How  did  you  know  that?  "  asked  honest  Rug- 
gles,  in  sheer  embarrassment. 

"Know  what — know  that  she  was  jealous?" 
rallied  Mrs.  Corlis.  "  Oh,  she  didn't  pretend  to 
conceal  it.  I  can  feel  her  wrathful  eyes  sticking 
into  me  still.  She  is  rather  glorious,  I  think." 

"  I  assure  you,  Mrs.  Corlis,  you  are  mistaken — 
she  would  never  be  jealous." 

"  Exactly  what  you  are  expected  to  affirm,  my 
dear  Chris;  but,  believe  me,  we  women  know 
women,  as  a  thief  catches  a  thief.  But,  tell  me, 
what  is  the  rest  of  her  name;  I've  been  styling 
her  Brunhild." 

"  I  call  her  a  Valkyr  myself,"  replied  Chris,  de 
lighted,  "  but  her  full  name  is  just  Hildegarde 
Brown." 

"  A  melodramatic-prosaic  agglomeration,"  said 
Mrs.  Corlis,  smilingly. 

"  It  resembles  herself,  Mrs.  Corlis."  He  was 
all  enthusiasm.  "She  looks  the  Valkyr — you  saw 
it — yet  what  she  calls  herself  is  a  business  woman. 
She  is  as  shrewd  as  a  Jew  in  some  ways,  and  in 
others  more  generous  than  any  Christian  I  know." 

"  That's  a  paradox  peculiar  to  Chicago,  I 
fancy." 

"Oh,  she  incarnates  Chicago;  she  can  have 
impracticable  enthusiasms,  and  she  can  drive  a 
bargain  to  strip  the  coat  off  one's  back." 

"  I  wish  I  knew  her,"  mused  Mrs.  Corlis. 
260 


The   Mills   of  Man 

"  I  wish  you  might,"  he  exclaimed.  "  But  it 
would  be  too  much  to  expect." 

"  Why,  I'm  not  above  knowing  whomever  I 
want  to  know,"  she  smiled.  "  Ask  Mrs.  McBride 
how  she  and  I  get  along." 

"  Mrs.  McBride  and  she  are  intimate  friends," 
said  Chris. 

"  Ah,  then  I  shall  make  her  acquaintance,  I 
know;  I  can  tell  Mrs.  McBride  how  anxious  I  am 
to  know  her.  And  you,  Chris,  must  persuade  her 
to  be  willing  to  meet  me ;  for  I'm  not  in  her  good 
books,  I  fear." 

"  I  never  can  believe  that,  Mrs.  Corlis;  but  I 
am  sure  I  can  remove  her  prejudices." 

Chris  proceeded  to  make  his  adieux,  pleading 
the  necessity  of  his  appearance  at  The  Pundit 
offices. 

"  It  was  very  kind  of  you  to  have  me  to  your 
breakfast,"  he  said  warmly.  "  I  think  it  quite  an 
honor,  indeed." 

"  I  am  glad  you  could  be  here,  Chris;  I  wanted 
you  to  meet  all  these  men,  and  to  have  them  un 
derstand  you  were  my  friend." 

Her  cordial  eyes  expressed  her  sincerity. 

"  Sometimes  we  reporters  are  able  to  help  a 
little  in  a  way,"  he  responded,  rather  clumsily; 
"  we  can  shove  things  along;  and  maybe  I  can  be 
of  some  service  in  my  newspaper  work  in  the  cam 
paign,  Mrs.  Corlis."  , 

261 


The   Mills  of  Man 

"  That's  good  of  you,  Chris.  I  shall  remem 
ber  it,  and  expect  you  to  aid  us,  when  the  oppor 
tunity  comes." 

She  accompanied  him  even  to  the  door,  as  an 
act  of  graciousness,  and  saw  him  helped  to  his 
hat  and  stick  and  bowed  out  by  deferential  ser 
vants. 

There  was  one  charge  that  never  was  brought 
against  Mrs.  Corlis;  no  one  ever  accused  her  of 
being  a  snob. 


262 


T 


XXVIII 

AT  PRIMROSE   HILL 

HE  long  lands  lay  about  the  house,  undulous 
to  the  verge  of  sunset.  Like  some  gorgeous 
rug  the  variegated  pattern  of  meadow, 
pasture,  grainfield,  woodland,  rolled  away,  green 
and  gold  and  rusty  bronze,  with  the  black  of 
denser  foliages  in  the  distance.  Eastward  the 
slope  went  downward  to  the  banks,  and  porches 
scanned  the  scene — the  curving  reaches  of  the 
river,  wending  miles  away,  and  the  stretch  of  level 
prairies  spotted  by  great  shadows  of  the  clouds. 

In  the  rooms  of  this,  her  childhood's  home, 
peace  abode,  and  there  brooded  that  deep  sleep 
which  is  medicinal.  Soundless  evening  followed 
one  upon  another  in  a  rare  succession,  and  still 
midnights  hung  their  canopies  about  the  chamber 
in  which  she  lay.  A  week  of  livelong  slumberous 
days  she  passed,  stretched  prone  in  a  long  willow 
chair  set  in  the  deep  porch,  whose  high  roof  fat 
Corinthian  columns  upbore.  On  afternoons,  when 
sunrays  commenced  to  slant,  she  wandered  down 
across  the  bridge  and  up  the  long  village  street, 
at  her  heels  two  dogs,  descendants  of  those  friends 
who  had  been  the  companions  of  the  rambles  of 
her  youth. 

263 


The   Mills   of  Man 

She  passed  the  ruined  forge,  whereat  Chris 
Ruggles'  father  had  wrought  so  long,  and  she  re 
called  the  great  figure  of  the  man,  his  leathern 
apron,  the  muscles  of  his  arms,  and  his  good,  sad, 
kindly  face.  How  often  he  had  ceased  his  blows 
to  talk  to  her  about  his  boy  at  college,  while  the 
water  had  made  furrows  in  the  grime  upon  his 
cheeks. 

Also  she  smiled  each  day  to  see  the  Senator 
affect  the  farmer.  It  was  a  delicious  pastoral  com 
edy.  He  fell  into  the  agricultural  dialect  and 
drawl  and  essayed  bucolic  figures  of  speech,  which 
he  illustrated  with  uncouth  gestures.  She  beheld 
him,  mornings,  tramping  off  through  the  dews  in 
his  cowhide  boots,  and,  twilights,  hanging  on  the 
pasture  bars,  deep  in  the  confidences  of  the  hired 
man.  She  was  convinced  that,  had  it  not  been 
for  the  mails  and  the  visits  of  the  politicians,  he 
would  have  taken  rod  and  reel  and  surreptitiously 
escaped  for  whole  days  down  the  river. 

Father  and  daughter,  that  silent  week,  renewed 
their  earlier  intimacy,  reviving,  in  a  sense,  the 
summers  of  long  ago,  when  they  had  lived  and 
played  and  studied  side  by  side  in  the  old  home 
stead. 

Then  she  had  been  known  from  the  Ohio  to 
the  Lake  as  "  the  Senator's  little  girl,"  and  senti 
mental  people  from  many  counties  wrote  her 
father  asking  for  her  photograph.  Moreover,  he 

264 


The   Mills  of  Man 

had  taken  her  much  about  with  him  up  and  down 
the  state,  wherever  he  went  to  make  a  speech.  The 
politicians  all  had  petted  her,  and  she  had  perched 
upon  the  knee  of  many  a  pilgrim  who  had  jour 
neyed  to  Primrose  Hill  to  advise  with  Senator 
Dawes  and  to  secure  his  influence. 

Thus  she  had  first  known  Randolph  Ransom, 
when  she  was  still  a  slip  of  a  girl  of  twelve  and 
he  a  young  politician  of  but  twenty-two.  He  had 
adored,  straightway,  the  dark-eyed,  gracious- 
spoken  child,  his  fancy  taken  with  her  quick  brain, 
her  tolerant  air  and  imperious  assertion.  Even 
then,  she  now  remembered,  he  was  unhappy,  with 
the  poignant,  egotistical  unhappiness  of  ardent 
youth.  He  seemed  to  have  found  out  early,  or 
always  to  have  known,  that  life  held  no  reality  to 
justify  grandiose  dreams,  and  out  of  a  fit  of  spleen, 
to  "euchre "  life  perhaps,  he  concentrated  on 
Mademoiselle,  as  he  called  her,  the  intense,  un 
acknowledged  poetry  of  his  haughty,  ironical  soul. 
How  she  had  assumed  control  of  him  from  the 
start,  "  bossed  "  him,  laughed  at  him,  visited  ca 
pricious  moods  upon  him,  harassed  his  heart,  to 
reward  him  well  with  one  delicious  golden  hour 
of  childish,  prattling  confidence,  and  arch,  elusive 
fondness. 

This  great  friendship  grew,  until,  when  she 
was  twenty  and  he  thirty,  Ransom  had  become 
avowedly  her  lover,  and  she  had  admitted  in  her 

265 


The   Mills   of  Man 

heart  that  some  day  she  might  possibly  be  his  wife. 
If  the  Senator  perceived  the  situation,  he  wisely 
pretended  to  be  blind;  but  he  esteemed  Ransom 
highly,  and  often  told  his  daughter  that  the  young 
man  was  the  "  smartest  "  politician,  for  his  years, 
in  Illinois. 

She  knew  now  that,  had  she  not  married  Walter 
Corlis,  she  would  have  married  that  first  friend 
of  hers.  And,  since  she  had  again  seen  him  in 
the  Convention,  after  many  years,  the  idle  specu 
lation  of  her  brain,  when  she  had  nothing  else  to 
do,  had  been  busy  with  him.  She  vaguely  won 
dered,  romantically,  as  women  will*  if  he  realized 
how  near  she  had  been  to  consenting  to  become 
his  wife,  and  she  suspected  it  was  for  her  sake  he 
had  remained  a  bachelor.  She  acknowledged  in 
her  inner  mind,  what  as  a  younger  woman  she 
would  have  indignantly  denied,  that  \vhat  had  de 
termined  her  to  marry  the  man  she  did  was  the 
fact  that  he  stirred  her  passion.  Perhaps,  she 
mused,  Ransom  had  suffered  by  reason  of  a  too 
great  reverence,  and  had  failed  because  he  had  not 
tried  a  storm. 

Senator  Dawes  announced,  one  morning,  that 
he  had  heard  from  Governor  Ransom. 

"  I  expect  he'll  be  here  to-night,  Vicky,  in  time 
for  dinner.  And  I  don't  think  I  need  remind 
you  " — the  Senator  looked  sly  and  droll — "  that 
if,  from  some  points  of  view,  the  Governor  stands 

266 


The  Mills  of  Man 

as  a  rank  demagogue,  from  a  culinary  standpoint 
he  is  a  most  inveterate  aristocrat.  And  it's  neces 
sary,  you  know,  that  we  should  do  everything  to 
induce  in  him  a  delectable  frame  of  mind." 

Mrs.  Corlis  inquired  how  he  had  managed  to 
persuade  the  Governor  to  come. 

"  I  wrote  him,"  replied  the  Senator,  "  from 
Chicago.  I  said  I  wanted  to  see  him,  and  this  is 
his  reply.  He  says  that  he  would  ask  me  down  to 
Springfield,  but  as  Primrose  Hill  has  fewer  eyes 
to  be  inquisitive,  he  invites  himself  up  here,  and  I 
suppose  he  is  now  on  his  way." 

''  It  was  easier  than  you  supposed  to  get  him  to 
meet  you,"  she  observed.  "  He's  not  aware  that 
I  am  with  you,  of  course  ?  " 

u  It's  not  likely;    I  don't  see    how  he    could 

know."     The  Senator  rubbed  his  hands,   for  he 

was  in  excellent  good  humor.     "  Everything  seems 

to  be  disposed  as  it  should  be,"  he  drawled  on, 

: "  and  we  ought  to  be  able  to  make  him  see  reason, 

'I  think.     Randolph,  I'm  sure,  has  a  real  regard 

ifor  me,  and  I'd  risk  a  guess  he  has  not  forgotten 

you." 

He  cast  his  old  eyes  up;  he  knew  his  world  so 
surprisingly  well,  did  the  Senator,  that  sometimes 
evidence  of  the  fact  astonished  even  his  daughter. 

"  And  now  we've  got  him  here,  we  must  not  let 
him  go  unimpressed,"  he  playfully  admonished. 
"  We  elect  or  defeat  ourselves  in  the  next  few 

267 


The   Mills   of  Man 

hours,  right  here,  my  child.  Why,"  he  declared, 
enthusiastically,  "  once  Ransom  promises  us  he 
will  let  sleeping  dogs  lie,  we  can  bottle  up  Egypt 
all  by  itself  and  slip  the  whole  program  through 
without  a  squeak." 

His  words,  his  manner,  served  to  provoke  in 
her  a  dislike  of  her  mission,  which  led  her  to  re 
mark, 

"  But  after  that  speech  of  his  in  the  Conven 
tion,  Pater,  I  hardly  see  how  you  can  expect  to 
persuade  him.  He  cannot  with  consistence  remain 
quiet,  can  he." 

"  Oh,  Ransom  is  an  inconsistent  dog,"  rejoined 
the  Senator.  "  He  is  as  often  controlled  by  his 
passions,  his  hatreds,  and  his  friendships,  as  he  is 
by  his  logic  or  his  interests  or  principles.  I'd  say 
he  was  a  gambler,  only,  while  he  plays  to  win,  he 
doesn't  care  much  if  he  loses.  My  hope  is  to  hold 
him  by  his  friendship  for  me,  by  making  him 
realize  my  exigency.  And  I  rely  a  good  deal  upon 
what  you  can  do,  Vicky." 

His  reliance,  amounting  practically  to  a  de 
mand,  excited  her  to  almost  a  resentment,  illogi- 
cally  enough,  considering  the  motive  which  had 
brought  her  to  Primrose  Hill.  But  that  feeling 
she  carefully  concealed  from  her  father's  eyes. 

The  Governor  arrived  late  that  afternoon;  it 
was  a  Saturday.  Mrs.  Corlis,  standing  at  a  win 
dow  upstairs,  unseen,  witnessed  the  meeting  be- 

268 


The   Mills  of  Man 

tween  the  two  men.  Governor  Ransom  sprang 
from  the  carriage  which  had  been  sent  to  fetch 
him  from  the  station.  Senator  Dawes  had  come 
out  upon  the  front  steps  to  bid  him  welcome. 

"By  God,  Senator,  how  are  you?"  exclaimed 
Ransom,  as  he  grasped  the  former's  hand. 

li  Randolph,  my  boy,  I  am  glad  to  see  you 
here,"  Senator  Dawes  declared,  putting  an  arm 
around  his  guest. 

"  Good;  we'll  have  a  high  old  time,  Uncle 
Simeon — a  regular  riotous,  reckless  time,  I  reckon. 
I've  brought  along  a  few  new  stones  to  swap  for 
your  old  ones  over  our  toddy,  and  you've  got  to 
show  me  the  farm  and  your  stock."  He  stopped 
on  the  steps  to  turn  and  look  about.  "  God,  how 
green  it  is,  and  this  air  is  wine — which  reminds 
me,"  he  added  whimsically,  "  that  what  I  most 
want's  a  drink.  Now,  if  you  were  like  me,  Sen 
ator,  you'd  have  a  crowd  of  good  fellows  up  here 
right  along — be  a  great  place  to  play  poker  in." 

"  Come  in,  come  in,  Randolph,  my  boy,  and 
don't  suggest  frivolities.  I  belong  to  a  staid 
generation,  remember,  one  that  didn't  go  to  the 
dogs." 

"  Dogs,  speaking  of  dogs,"  cried  Ransom, 
"  haven't  you  got  any  nowadays  about  the  place? 
I  recollect  years  ago  your  daughter  used  to  be 
fond  of  dogs — I  gave  her  a  pup  once  myself." 

269 


The   Mills  of  Man 

The  Governor  looked  a  bit  waggish  and  then  a 
bit  shamefaced. 

:<  Well,"  said  the  Senator,  "  you  know  she  is 
here  with  me — Mrs.  Corlis,  I  mean.  She  is  very 
anxious  to  see  you  again." 

Ransom  drew  back. 

'  You  don't  say  so.  I  didn't  know  that,  or 
I'd — .  Well,  go  ahead  in.  What's  she  like?  I 
haven't  seen  her,  not  in  years.  By  God,  a  funny 
world,  Senator!  I'll  have  to  take  a  reef  in  my 
manners,  I  reckon." 


25^0 


XXIX 

FOR  WHOSE   SAKE 

THE  man's  years  of  hard  living  were  written 
in  his   face — his  years  of  gaming,   drink 
ing,    swearing,    scheming.     There    was    a 
touch  of  swagger  to  his  bearing  and  much  in  his 
manner   of   boisterous   good-fellowship,    alternat 
ing,  as  it  were,  with  seconds  of  a  grim  saturninity. 
He  evinced,  in  fine,  the  effect  of  exclusive  com 
panionship  with  men,  all  sorts  of  them,  as  well  as 
of  the  banishment  of  women  from  his  life. 

But  a  subtle  change  half  rectified  the  impression 
he  produced,  the  moment  his  eyes  rested  upon 
Mrs.  Corlis.  She  greeted  him  with  a  cordial 
smile  and  a  frank  hand-shake,  while  he  bowed  be 
fore  her  in  some  semblance  of  his  old-time,  half- 
forgotten  Kentucky  gallantry.  She  appeared  a 
gracious  figure,  no  doubt,  to  his  famished  eyes, 
significant  of  all  that  he  had  lost.  The  white  hair 
was  unfamiliar;  but  the  height  of  her,  the  dark 
and  sympathetic  eyes,  marked  the  woman  as  they 
had  marked  the  girl. 

The  Governor  sweetened  or  grew  urbane,  more 
over,  in  the  continued  contact  of  her  amenity.  As 

271 

18  ' 


The  Mills  of  Man 

her  entrance  had  sufficed  to  endow  him  with  dig 
nity,  so  her  presence,  her  glance,  her  speech,  un 
folded  gradually  his  almost  forgotten  qualities  of 
charm  and  grace  and  fine  consideration.  The  hu 
morously  cynical  countenance  that  commonly  he 
used  for  mask  was  insensibly  displaced  by  a 
transparent  nobility  of  expression,  proof  of  the 
finer  emotions  she  inspired.  In  fact,  miraculously 
quick,  she  had  contrived  to  rub  the  rust  of  rancors 
and  disillusions  off,  so  that  something  of  the  origi 
nal  geniality  of  him  shone  through. 

This  process  consumed  the  dinner  time,  and 
quite  likely  the  excellence  of  the  food  and  the 
quality  of  the  wines  supplemented  the  spiritual 
argument.  Mrs.  Corlis  understood  how  to  make 
the  conquest  of  a  man. 

The  talk  ran  naturally  upon  old  associations. 
The  Governor  recalled  amusing  episodes,  and  she 
let  him  see  that  she  remembered  even  more  than 
them.  She  admitted  him  without  formality  to 
that  intimacy  which  had  been  characteristic  of 
their  friendship  before  discordant  passions  had 
put  an  end  to  it. 

And  she  was  inexpressibly  winning  thus;  so 
free  a  comradeship  informed  her  manner,  such  a 
disposition  for  even  give-and-take,  with  a  slight 
ing  implication  upon  her  privilege  as  a  woman — 
these  externals.  Then  to  the  intercourse  she 

272 


The   Mills   of  Man 

brought  a  knowledge  diplomats  might  have  envied 
her,  a  worldly  experience,  garnered  in  years  of 
social  striving  and  social  achievement,  a  consum 
mate  tact  and  a  rare  flattery,  plus,  as  a  flux  to 
blend  them  pleasantly,  an  amused  sympathy  with 
men  and  humorous  toleration  of  their  weaknesses, 
such  as  among  good  women,  those  distinguished 
by  some  masculine  grasp  of  mind,  alone  can  have. 

The  two  men  smoked  in  the  porch  after  dinner 
— smoked,  and  eyed  the  sunset  and  the  fading  of 
the  gold  and  crimson  into  the  grayness  of  twilight. 
The  felicity  affected  Ransom;  that  strenuous 
swashbuckler  had  not  for  years  felt  his  nerves  so 
much  in  tune.  He  recognized  the  cause;  the  har 
mony  proceeded  from  the  mitigating  presence  of 
what  he  styled,  in  old-time,  stilted  parlance,  "  a 
refined  and  high-bred  lady."  It  possessed  an  ele 
gance  which  mere  money  could  not  buy,  or  any 
man  create;  it  produced  content  and  satisfied  the 
sense  for  music;  it  made  mere  living  good. 

He  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  felt  these 
things,  listening  to  her  clear,  low  voice,  while  the 
thickening  dusk  made  of  them  three  opaque 
shadows. 

Presently  the  Senator  arose,  tossed  his  cigar  into 
the  grass  and  passed  into  the  house,  saying  as  he 
went : 

"  When  you've  finished,   Randolph,  come  into 

273 


The   Mills   of  Man 

the  library  and  we'll  discuss  awhile.  Meantime, 
you  and  Mrs.  Corlis  have  your  talk  out." 

The  Governor  smoked  in  silence  for  awhile, 
until  the  fiery  point  of  his  cigar  remained,  in  the 
completed  darkness,  the  only  evidence  of  him. 
Mrs.  Corlis  talked  at  that. 

She  referred  indirectly  to  her  father's  friend 
ship  for  him,  and  then  remarked  how  often  the 
Senator  talked  of  his  career.  She  ended, 

"  Indeed,  Governor  Ransom,  I  do  not  know 
but  that  his  anxiety  about  you  the  last  six  months 
has  occupied  him  even  more  than  his  own  worries. 
He  has  cherished  the  hope,  until  it  has  grown  ex 
ceedingly  dear  to  him,  that  you  were  to  be  his 
political  heir.  He  discovered  you,  he  claims,  and 
you  have  been  associated  with  his  mind  more  inti 
mately  than  has  any  one.  Oh,  believe  me,  it  is  a 
great  grief  to  him  that  at  this  eleventh  hour  you 
and  he  should  part." 

He  made  no  reply  for  a  moment.  Then,  to 
judge  from  his  voice,  it  was  with  an  effort  at  light 
ness. 

"  Pshaw,  we  are  still  the  best  of  friends,  the 
Senator  and  I.  A  little  matter,  such  as  this  of 
silver,  Mrs.  Corlis,  may  part  us  in  opinion,  but  it 
cannot  affect  our  personal  relations.  As  it  is,  I  do 
assure  you,  it  has  cost  me  a  wrench  to  get  myself 
up  and  to  go  it  alone,  after  the  years  we  have 

274 


The   Mills   of  Man 

worked  in  harness  together.  The  Senator,  I 
reckon,  credits  me  with  that." 

"  He  does  you  full  justice,  I  am  sure,  Governor 
Ransom,"  she  rejoined.  "  But  I  must  tell  you  he 
feels  the  desertions  so  keenly  these  latter  days. 
For  he  is  old  and  diminishing  in  usefulness,  per 
haps,  and  followers  are  looking  for  the  rising  sun; 
your  old  stanch  alliance  and  long,  long  under 
standing,  renewed,  would  restore  his  equanimity, 
I  know,  and  he  could  then  view  with  the  philoso 
phy  he  now  lacks  the  defections  and  betrayals 
which  rend  his  heart." 

"  Our  old  alliance,  Mrs.  Corlis,  is  impossi 
ble,"  Ransom  answered,  promptly,  as  if  he  de 
sired  at  once  to  disabuse  her  mind  of  any  such 
hope.  He  continued,  as  if  to  make  what  amends 
he  could:  "  But  you  are  aware  how  kindly  are 
my  feelings  toward  him;  indeed,  I  think  your 
father  is  the  one  real  friend  I  have  had  in  a  life 
time." 

''  I  know  that,  and  I  know,  too,  what,  has  been 
your  loyalty  to  friends,  even  to  half  friends,  Gov 
ernor  Ransom." 

An  emotional  note  colored  her  voice — the  note 
of  suppressed  appeal  to  his  better  nature  for  his 
aid. 

;<  I  know,  who  should  know  better,"  she  re 
peated,  "  what  a  knight  you  are  at  heart,  Ran 
dolph  Ransom!  " 

275 


The   Mills  of  Man 

Seconds  of  utter  silence  in  the  dark  intervened. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I'm  a  regular  ramping  Don  Quixote 
de  la  Mancha,  I  am,"  he  snorted,  impatient  of  the 
sentimentality  she  evoked,  and  of  that  which  she 
would  fain  attribute  to  him.  He  heard  her 
breathe,  he  divined  how  painful  was  her  hurt,  and 
proceeded  to  explain, 

'  You,  of  all  women,  need  not  be  told  what 
politics  are,  Mrs.  Corlis,  and  you  understand  what 
has  brought  about  this  break.  But  I  still  respect 
your  father  and  we  remain  friends,  I  reckon.  If 
you  had  been  at  the  Convention  you  would  have 
observed  that  in  my  speech — and  it  was  bitter,  I'll 
own  up — I  said  not  one  single  word  about  the 
Senator  that  his  warmest  friend  could  take  excep 
tion  to." 

"  I  was  there,"  she  hastened  to  state.  "  I  heard 
you,  Governor  Ransom.  I  could  not  approve,  of 
course,  but  it  was — it  was  magnificent !  " 

"  D !  my  cigar's  out — pardon  me." 

He  struck  a  match  and  deliberately  applied  it 
to  the  end  of  a  fresh  cigar.  The  flame  lit  up  his 
face.  She  saw  the  hard,  shrewd  lineaments  before 
he  dropped  the  brand.  He  moved  restlessly  in 
his  chair  and  laughed  ironically. 

"  I  might  as  well  make  a  clean  breast  of  it,  I 
reckon,  since,  it  appears,  you  were  there  and  heard 
all  my  abuse." 

276 


The   Mills   of  Man 

"Yes?"  said  Mrs.  Corlis.  She  flushed  hotly 
in  the  dark. 

"  I  was  mad,  you  see.  Those  fellows  up  there 
in  Chicago  euchred  me.  They  first  kept  me  in 
side  the  Convention  hall  by  allowing  me  to  con 
struct  the  platform.  Having  me  corraled,  they 
reckoned  they  could  repudiate  my  planks  by  nomi 
nating  a  man  whose  name,  alone,  assured  a  con 
tradiction  of  every  bimetallic  utterance  the  plat 
form  contained — you  will  excuse  me,  you  always 
liked  plain  speaking.  They  fooled  me — it  was 
mighty  smart  of  them — but  it  was  unscrupulous,  I 
reckon." 

"  Perhaps  they  were  but  borrowing  a  leaf  from 
your  own  book,  Governor  Ransom,"  she  parried, 
humorously.  "  Napoleon  taught  his  enemies  the 
art  of  war,  did  he  not?  " 

"  To  be  sure,  the  boot  on  your  own  foot  never 
did  feel  the  same  as  when  it  was  on  the  other  fel 
low's,"  he  whimsically  admitted.  "  But,  anyhow, 
they  had  me  cinched.  I  could  hardly  bolt,  I 
reckon,  for  technically  they  had  me  dead  to  rights. 
I  had  written  the  platform — where  did  my  kick 
come  in?  I  couldn't  expect  to  be  allowed  to  run 
the  whole  shooting  match.  If  I  walked  out,  I 
couldn't  say  it  was  for  the  sake  of  principle;  it 
would  be  clear  as  three  aces  over  two  pair  it  was 
because  the  particular  choice  of  the  Convention 
to  head  the  ticket  didn't  suit  my  personal  taste— 

277 


The   Mills   of  Man 

which  was  too  near  the  fact,  I  reckon,  to  be  denied. 
That's  why  I  got  mad — because  they  had  me 
nailed  down  fast.  Besides,  I  felt  it  would  be  just 
as  well  to  register  my  protest  hard,  so  that  if 
there's  any  turn  of  the  wheel  to  come,  I  will  be 
where  I  can  get  on  and  ride." 

'  Then  you  do  not  mean  to  bolt?  "  she  asked, 
vast  relief  in  her  voice. 

'  Wish  I  could,"  he  answered.  "  I  reckon  I'd 
do  it  mighty  quick  if  I  could  see  a  way  to,  Mrs. 
Corlis.  To  tell  the  truth,  that's  why  I  am  here 
to  see  the  Senator,  to  learn  if  I  can  or  not.  But 
I'm  dreadfully  afraid  your  father  is  well  able  to 
give  me  the  assurances  I'll  demand,  and,  if  he 
does,  I've  got  to  remain  in  camp  and  take  my 
medicine.  They  euchred  me,  those  Chicago  fel 
lows — did  me  up  brown,  and  I'm  in  a  ridiculous 
hole,  I  reckon.  The  one  saving  clause  to  the 
proposition  is  that  under  the  circumstances  it  may 
help  the  Senator  some,  and  where  I  can,  I  always 
want  to  see  him  through." 

"  I  believe  you,  Governor  Ransom."  It  was 
said  with  faith. 

He  stood  up. 

"  Now,  I  reckon  I'll  go  talk  to  the  Senator  if 
you'll  excuse  me,  Mrs.  Corlis.  It  has  been  a  pre 
cious  treat  to  me  to  see  you  once  more,  and  to  talk 
to  you  again."  Sincerity  next  moment  vanished 
in  the  jest  at  his  own  expense — "  I've  got  to  go  in 

278 


The   Mills  of  Man 

and  find  out  whether  the  Senator  can  give  me  the 
assurances  I  don't  want,  or  whether  I  can  de 
cently  refuse  what  he  is  compelled  to  give.  Quite 
mixed  up,  you  see." 

The  night  was  warm  and  had  waxed  increas 
ingly  oppressive;  she  stayed  in  the  porch  a  full 
hour  after  the  Governor  had  left  her. 

A  long  sigh  of  relief  escaped  her;  for,  after  all, 
she  thought,  it  was  circumstances  and  not  the  in 
fluence  she  had  brought  to  bear,  which  would  de 
termine  the  Governor.  She  was  glad  she  was 
superfluous.  What  had  shamed  her,  as  she  had 
urged  on  her  old  friend  the  claims  of  her  father 
to  his  forbearance,  was  the  realization,  suddenly 
brought  home  to  her  consciousness,  that  she  was 
speaking  not  merely  for  her  father's  sake,  but  for 
her  husband's — in  behalf  of  the  successful  rival 
of  the  man  to  whom  she  was  addressing  her  plea. 

She  wondered  now  if  the  Governor's  acuteness 
had  not  detected  her  embarrassment;  she  sus 
pected  that  it  had,  that  he  had  had  the  grace  to 
be  merciful  to  her,  taking  her  words  at  their  face 
value,  as  for  her  father's  sake  alone.  The  chivalry 
he  would  not  confess  was  just  like  Randolph  Ran 
som. 

Her  cheeks  flamed  in  the  dark.  Was  she  a 
hypocrite  or  a  devoted  wife?  she  asked  herself.  It 
made  no  difference  as  to  what  she  was,  that  the 
necessity  for  her  persuasion  had  not  appeared. 

279 


The  Mills  of  Man 

She  had  come  prepared  to  use  persuasion,  to  as 
sert  that  power  over  Ransom  which  she  felt  she 
still  possessed.  Even  now  she  still  would  use  it, 
it  was  probable,  if  expediency  dictated  its  employ 
ment. 

She  questioned:  Had  she  not  already  caused 
enough  of  ruin  in  his  life?  True,  she  could  not, 
in  reason,  be  charged  with  the  responsibility  of  his 
tragedy  or  his  career;  yet,  if  he  had  suffered 
under  the  violence  of  his  passions,  she  it  was,  how 
ever  innocently,  who  had  set  them  raging.  Would 
she  lightly,  then,  move  to  do  him  further  mis 
chief,  to  seduce  his  mind,  to  vary  his  career,  for 
the  benefit  of  the  man  she  knew  he  hated — hated 
personally,  as  the  robber  who  had  stolen  her  from 
him — hated  intellectually,  as  the  type  and  repre 
sentative  of  every  political  and  commercial  influ 
ence  he  opposed? 

Mrs.  Corlis  was  not  merciful  to  herself  that 
hour;  possibly  she  was  just.  As  a  daughter  she 
might  be  justified  in  endeavoring  to  influence  Ran 
som;  but  as  his  rival's  wife,  was  she?  That  was 
her  quandary. 

She  rolled  the  scruple  out  to  utter  thinness  in 
her  mind,  until,  indeed,  the  tedious  thing  became 
a  flimsy  rag.  Then  in  a  frenzy  she  stamped  on  it. 
She  did  not  know,  she  could  not  tell;  she  had  the 
practical  masculine  impatience  of  nice  abstractions. 
She  felt,  when  all  was  said,  that  she  served  a 

280 


The   Mills   of  Man 

great  man,  that  she  sacrificed  for  him,  that  she 
would  do  evil  in  his  cause,  even  as  for  his  ambi 
tion  she  had  given  up  her  whole  individuality,  and 
had  surrendered  self  for  his  entertainment  and  his 
pleasure.  That  devotion  was  the  consecration  of 
her  life,  without  it  she  was  a  wrecked  woman, 
disappointed,  unhappy,  ill. 

She  went  upstairs  to  bed,  and  lay  sleepless  a 
long  time.  Through  the  wide-open  windows  came 
to  her  ears,  distinctly,  the  argument  between  the 
Senator  and  Governor  in  the  library  downstairs. 
Her  father's  calm  and  modulated  voice,  the  in 
strument  of  his  reason,  her  former  lover's  pierc 
ing  and  uneven  tones,  sometimes  fierce  with  a  mo 
mentary  passion,  for  the  most  part  bitterly  humor 
ous,  the  accent  of  a  man  who  felt  the  world  as 
mean  comedy  and  resented  the  conviction. 

Senator  Dawes  argued  like  an  astute  logician, 
demonstrating,  in  half  a  dozen  ways,  the  fallacy 
of  Free  Silver,  and  the  peril  in  its  threat  to  the 
foundations  of  commercial  prosperity.  Governor 
Ransom  dealt  with  these  proofs  characteristically, 
the  demonstrations  affecting  him  about  as  much  as 
water  the  proverbial  duck's  back.  In  rebuttal 
he  presented  evidence  of  the  strength  of  the  senti 
ment  for  Silver  throughout  southern  Illinois, 
which  seemed,  to  his  mind,  to  constitute  an  ade» 
quate  reply. 

He  ignored  the  merits  of  the  question — it  would 
281 


The   Mills   of  Man 

be  invidious  to  assume  he  did  not  understand 
them.  What  appealed  to  the  politician  was  the 
force,  mustered  or  mustering,  behind  the  Silver 
movement. 

"  Why,  Senator,"  he  contended,  "  this  isn't 
local;  it's  a  vanguard  eddy  of  a  national  tide,  I 
reckon.  Silver  spreads  like  a  contagion,  and  two 
years  from  now  it's  bound  to  capture  one  or  the 
other  of  the  national  parties.  The  sole  question,  to 
my  way  of  thinking,  is,  which  party  it  will  choose 
to  make  its  victim.  It's  as  certain  as  God's  judg 
ment  that  the  coming  national  election  will  be 
fought  out  on  Silver  for  an  issue.  Now,  what  I 
want  to  know  is  this,  why  shouldn't  the  aspiring 
politician  take  advantage  of  the  wave?  We  see 
it,  two  years  ahead,  far  out  at  sea,  coming  like  a 
race-horse.  It  will  break  things  up  some,  I  reckon, 
when  it  hits  the  shore," 


282 


XXX 

AN  ALLEGED  DILEMMA 

THE  Sunday  morning  was  idyllic;    the  cool 
of  dawn  and  dew  was  in  the  air.     Over 
head   the   blue   vault   deepened   and   in   it, 
stately  ships,  floated  the  steep  clouds,  white  masses 
now,  but  thunderous  in  promise. 

The  church  bells  in  the  village  pulsed  silvery 
vibrations  through  the  quiescent  air;  they  touched 
the  pagan  ear  of  Ransom,  as  he  strolled  across 
the  lawns,  an  unlit  cigar  between  his  working  lips. 
The  beauty  and  insinuating  peace  nearly  beguiled 
him  into  weakness,  or  what  to  his  mind  constituted 
weakness;  for  sentimental  needs  he  held  he  had 
dispensed  with  years  ago,  tender  offices  whose 
suggestion  he  had  terminated  with  the  destruction 
of  his  dream,  rose  in  his  heart  and  colored  the 
vision  of  his  eyes.  The  unbelieving,  restless 
schemer,  with  his  cynical  estimate  of  life  and  his 
pitying  contempt  for  men,  suffered  a  half-hour  of 
commonplace  illusion  and  commonplace  regret. 
Not  the  vanity  of  the  practical  struggle — the 
sense  of  that  was  always  mocking  him — but  its 
distastefulness,  its  ugliness,  contrasted  in  his  mind 
with  what  the  sweet  refreshment  and  abiding  sat- 

283 


The   Mills  of  Man 

isfaction  of  a  simple  life  passed  with  books  and 
nature  and  the  woman  whom  one  loved,  might 
have  been  for  him. 

Senator  Dawes,  wearing  a  frock  coat  and 
crowned  with  a  silk  hat,  came  out  of  the  house. 
He  carried  a  black  Bible  under  his  arm,  and,  as 
he  crossed  the  lawn  in  the  direction  of  his  guest, 
he  drew  on  his  gloves  over  his  delicate,  aristo 
cratic  hands.  The  Sabbatical  austerity  of  his  garb, 
in  harmony  with  his  shaven  lip,  lent  him  the  aspect 
of  the  church  elder. 

"  I'm  about  to  walk  in  to  church,  Governor," 
he  announced.  "  I  guess  there  is  no  use  inviting 
you  to  come  along.  Mrs.  Corlis,  she's  staying 
home,  too.  By  the  looks  of  the  sky,  yonder,  I 
shouldn't  be  surprised  if  we'd  get  a  downpour  be 
fore  meeting's  over.  Guess  I'll  just  take  an  um- 
brell  to  sort  of  make  sure." 

Ransom's  gaze  followed  the  old-fashioned  fig 
ure  down  the  road,  villageward.  He  was  aware 
that  the  Senator  seldom  troubled  to  attend  church 
in  Washington;  but  neither  politics  nor  company 
could  debar  Uncle  Simeon  from  a  punctual  ob 
servance  of  all  religious  services  here  at  home. 

"  How  shiftily  the  old  shuffler  plays  the  cards," 
reflected  Ransom,  his  thin  lips  puckering  cynically. 
"Ought  to  follow  suit  myself,  I  reckon;  but  I 
never  could  endure  to  be  bored  a  moment  over 
what  was  absolutely  necessary.  Well,  the  Sen- 

284 


The   Mills   of  Man 

ator's  as  slick  as  you  find  them;  he  fools  himself 
while  he's  fooling  other  people,  and  not  only 
other  people,  but  he  himself,  have  got  a  genuine 
conviction  that  he  is  immaculate.  What  a  pre 
posterous  world  God  Almighty  saw  fit  to  set  up, 
by  Gosh!" 

He  swung  completely  on  his  heel  outwardly  to 
mark  his  outlandish  wonder  and  irreverence,  and, 
as  he  looked  up,  he  spied  Mrs.  Corlis  com 
ing  from  the  house  out  upon  the  lawn.  A 
soft,  white  morning  gown,  lace  ornamented  and 
loosely  disposed,  concealed  her  wasted  figure,  and, 
despite  her  gray  hair,  imparted  to  her  a  look  of 
youth.  The  illusion  almost  seized  him — this  was 
a  pleasant  morning,  twenty  years  ago,  and  Vic 
toria  Dawes  was  summoning  him  to  go  for  a  walk 
with  her.  But  she  was  nearer  now,  and  the  thin 
ness  of  her  cheeks,  the  hollows  of  her  eyes,  which 
the  morning  light  revealed,  dispelled  the  vision 
and  smote  his  heart  instead. 

Stepping  forward  he  hailed  her  with  a  "  Good 
morning."  Then  the  impulse  to  brighten  her,  at 
any  cost,  mastered  him. 

"  You  were  not  down  to  breakfast,  but  the  Sen 
ator  and  I  fixed  it  between  us  over  the  coffee  and 
eggs.  Cheer  up,  he'll  be  reflected;  I'm  going  to 
stay  inside  the  breastworks  and  give  him  my  sup 
port." 

A  sudden  radiance  suffused  her  dullness.    Was 

285 


The   Mills   of  Man 

that  sufficient  reward?  he    asked    himself.     He 
hedged : 

"  Of  course,  there  are  conditions,  certain  con 
ditions  annexed.  But  he'll  find  them  feasible  " — 
he  chased  the  recurring  shadow  from  her  face — 
"  there  won't  be  any  question  about  that." 

With  a  humorous  and  charming  smile  she  put 
forth  her  two  hands. 

'  You're  a  capital  good  fellow,  Governor  Ran 
som,  and  I  don't  know  how  to  thank  you." 

He  liked  the  acknowledgment,  but  he  drawled 
deprecatingly, 

"  Not  at  all,  oh,  not  at  all.  The  Senator  and 
I  have  been  in  too  many  fights  together  for  me  to 
fail  him  at  this  pinch.  Though,  I  reckon,  were 
he  out,  I'd  secede  mighty  soon." 

"  And  Silver?  "  she  asked,  inquisitively. 

"  Is  postponed,  adjourned — but  side-tracked 
for  good? — don't  you  believe  it!  After  we've 
shelved  the  Senator  in  Washington  for  another 
six  years,  I'm  going  to  put  on  war-paint.  It  will 
be  Silver  or  Secession,  a  flat  ultimatum." 

The  dark  eyes  flashed,  though  next  moment  de 
fiance  gave  way  to  humor  in  the  expression  of  the 
face. 

She  smiled  at  him,  almost  tenderly. 

"  Ah,  I'm  glad,  then,  that  you  have  agreed  to 
tie  your  own  hands  until  next  winter.  By  that 
time,  when  you  are  again  free  to  act,  Silver  will  be 

286 


The   Mills   of  Man 

dead,  or  dying,  and  you  will  have  been  saved  de 
spite  yourself." 

He  bit  his  lip;  perhaps  he  resented  her  as 
sumption  that  the  acceptance,  on  her  part,  of  his 
generosity  would  prove  his  own  salvation.  He 
'spoke  dogmatically, 

"  Silver,  in  a  year,  will  have  matured  as  an 
issue.  Its  future  does  not  depend  on  politicians, 
or  upon  who  is  Governor  at  Springfield.  Silver 
is  a  raging  fever  in  the  veins  of  the  people — it  will 
not  be  easily  expelled." 

She  felt  he  was  offended,  although  the  cause 
escaped  her. 

"  I  hold  to  my  opinion,"  she  said,  with  sweet 
insistence.  "  So  you  may  have  one  thing  to  thank 
me  for  in  years  to  come." 

She  looked  archly  wise.     It  was  too  much. 

"  Your  complacence  is  not  well  considered,"  he 
rejoined  bitterly.  "  My  self-denying  ordinance 
may  help  you;  it  isn't  going  to  do  me  any  good. 
On  the  contrary,  it'll  come  near  killing  me,  I 
reckon.  My  supineness  will  install  a  crowd  at 
Springfield  for  four  years  with  whom  I  have  no 
affiliations  and  no  sympathies.  They  will  turn  my 
friends  out  everywhere,  and  erect  a  new  machine 
upon  the  ruins  of  my  own.  So  you  see,"  he 
sneered,  "  you  needn't  be  so  self-congratulatory  on 
my  account." 

He  hurt  her,  but  she  put  the  injury  by. 
287 


19 


The   Mills   of  Man 

"  You  think  you  could  not  only  defeat  them 
now,  but  help  yourself,  were  you  to  repudiate  the 
platform,  bolt  the  ticket?  "  she  inquired  curiously. 

"  I  ought  to  call  upon  them  to  pledge  them 
selves  to  the  Chicago  platform,  and,  if  they  hesi 
tated,  to  proclaim  myself  a  better  Republican  than 
they,  and  walk  out,"  he  answered  bluntly.  u  It 
would  make  me  the  Silver  leader  in  Illinois." 

'  Then  why  don't  you  do  it?  "  she  challenged, 
in  a  generous  flush,  adding  by  way  of  caution — 
il  only  be  sure,  be  sure!  " 

He  walked  a  few  steps  to  one  side,  then  wheeled 
abruptly  and  came  back  softly  over  the  grass,  his 
countenance  screwed  up  in  a  comical  perplexity. 

"  I  don't  know  why  I  don't,"  he  drawled. 
"  Ordinarily  I'd  be  keen  to  take  the  leap,  and 
hang  the  risk.  But  " — he  looked  sidelong  at  Mrs. 
Corlis,  perhaps  to  gauge  the  compass  of  her  cred 
ulity — "  but  maybe  it  is  because  I'd  like  to  have 
the  Senator,  since  he  takes  this  reelection  so  much 
to  heart,  get  the  benefit  of  any  doubt  there  seems 
to  be."  He  spoke  slowly,  and  observed  the  least 
change  in  her  face.  "  Formally,  I'm  bound;  he 
has  given  me  the  letter  of  assurances  I  demanded. 
In  reality  that  letter  isn't  worth  the  ink  it's  written 
in,  I  reckon.  The  Senator  believes  it,  right 
enough,  of  course;  but  if  that  crowd  he  signs  for 
haven't  fixed  it  up  already,  they're  only  waiting  till 

288 


The   Mills   of  Man 

they  get  into  office  to  be  up  to  some  corporation 
deviltry  or  other." 

He  put  his  hands  in  his  trousers  pockets,  let  his 
head  fall  forward,  and  lifted  himself  on  his  toes 
repeatedly.  He  was  length  and  leanness  from 
the  delicately  intellectual  head  to  the  thin,  long 
limbs. 

"  However,"  he  continued,  with  one  of  his  char 
acteristic  grins  at  his  own  expense,  "I'd  have  a 
mighty  hard  time,  I  reckon,  convincing  the  ordi 
nary  voter  that  my  suspicions  are  correct.  He 
won't  damn  his  party's  ticket  ahead  of  time,  not 
even  with  my  word  for  it;  he'd  say  I  was  crazy. 
Therefore,  I  reckon,  generally  speaking,  Mrs.  Cor- 
lis,  your  crowd  has  got  the  drop  on  me.  I  can't 
very  well  help  keeping  mum." 

A  growl  of  thunder  came  from  the  west  and  a 
preliminary  pattering  of  rain  assailed  the  tree- 
tops.  The  air  was  still  motionless,  but  the  clouds 
were  piling  more  and  more  menacingly,  and  in  the 
distance  grain  was  waving  and  trees  were  tossing. 

"  I  fancy  we  had  better  retreat  into  the  house," 
said  Mrs.  Corlis,  and  led  the  way  herself,  her 
head  drooping,  and  her  eyes  filled  with  specula 
tion. 

The  Governor  followed  after,  his  lips  pucker 
ing. 

"  It  was  a  good  bluff,"  he  thought,  "  or  was 
it  all  a  bluff?"  He  himself,  at  that  time,  could 
not  have  clearly  told. 

289 


XXXI 

"  I  AM  AN  AMERICAN  " 

IN  THE  library,  whither  Mrs.  Corlis  returned, 
after  going  through  the  house  to  see  if  the 
windows  were  closed  against  the  storm,  the 
gloorn  increased.  She  seated  herself  in  her 
father's  working  chair,  one  forearm  on  his  desk, 
where  her  fingers  played  with  a  paper-knife,  let 
ting  the  blade  slide  one  way  and  then  another. 
Governor  Ransom  sat  half  across  the  room,  his 
long  legs  curled  impossibly  underneath  the  chair 
and  his  slim  back  bent  nearly  double.  What  was 
clearly  discernible,  in  the  dim  shaft  of  light  enter 
ing  from  the  window,  was  the  lined  and  nervous 
face  and  the  long,  thin,  wearied  hands  that  clasped 
his  temples. 

"  But  this  Silver,"  she  resumed,  endeavoring  to 
ignore  the  tension  of  the  electrified  air,  "  tell  me, 
I'd  like  to  know,  do  you  actually  believe  in  it? 
Granted  that  it  may  produce  a  struggle  with  half 
the  country,  you,  its  zealous  partisan,  cannot  fancy 
it  will  finally  succeed.  Even  should  you,  yourself, 
become  its  prophet  in  the  nation,  the  movement 
might  nominate  you,  it  never  could  develop  force 
sufficient  to  carry  you  into  the  White  House." 

290 


The   Mills   of  Man 

"  You're  right,  I  reckon,"  he  admitted,  without 
pause.  "  Though,  for  one,  I  am  convinced  it  will 
grow  so  strong  that  it  will  rend  asunder  the  old 
parties,  or  else  revolutionize  them.  Across  the 
Mississippi  broods  a  tempest  which  the  East  ig 
nores.  The  East  is  an  ostrich." 

Uncontented,  she  resumed, 

"  But  I  am  trying  to  discover  what  is  your  real 
attitude.  However  far  the  movement  may  go,  in 
the  end  it  must  defeat  you,  must  it  not,  since  it 
cannot  succeed?  " 

"  There  would  be  a  pretty  struggle  furnished, 
meantime,"  he  rejoined,  a  flash  in  his  dark  eyes. 

"  Yes,  but  the  fight  for  the  fight's  sake  purely," 
she  inquired,  "  would  not  compensate  you  for  sure 
downfall  and  permanent  retirement?  " 

'Why  not?"  The  old  perverse  twist  curled 
his  lips. 

Suddenly  he  dropped  his  hands  from  his  face, 
sat  bolt  upright  in  his  chair,  and  spoke  out  in  a 
reckless  fashion,  that,  at  least,  provided  his  pent- 
up  self  relief. 

'  The  fact  is,  Mrs.  Corlis,  I'm  in  politics  for 
excitement.  I  don't  sleep  nights,  not  as  much  as 
three  hours,  I  reckon.  I  live  on  coffee  and  to 
bacco.  What's  the  odds !  There  are  more  chances, 
more  strairi,  more  madness,  more  hopelessness,  in 
leading  a  lost  cause,  in  defying  and  in  damningr 

291 


The   Mills   of  Man 

than  in  just  jumping  into  some  sure-thing  band 
wagon  and  tooting  along  with  the  other  toots." 

They  laughed  together  at  the  paradox,  she  rip- 
plingly,  he  in  dry,  almost  silent,  fashion.  But  the 
laughter  hurt  her. 

"  Sounds  funny,  I  reckon,"  the  Governor  said 
grimly;  "  but  there's  a  whole  lot  of  truth  in  what 
I  say." 

She  experienced  impatience. 

"  But  why  must  you  think  so  futilely;  why 
must  you  insist  upon  antagonism  at  every  point?  " 
she  took  him  to  task.  "  With  your  talents,  your 
genius  for  politics,  if  you  hate  the  money  power, 
as  you  say,  and  dread  the  effect  of  corporations, 
why  do  you  not  devote  yourself  rationally  to  the 
extermination  of  corruption  and  the  restoration  of 
pure  government?" 

"  You  women  always  think  in  black  and  white," 
he  snarled.  "  What  you  mean,  I  reckon,  is  you 
want  me  to  be  a  reformer.  And  what's  a  re 
former?  In  politics  he  is  what  a  prig  is  in  so 
ciety;  he  demands  an  impossible,  dull  purity,  and 
he  has  no  instinct,  even  rudimentary,  for  the  great 
practical  issues,  which,  as  they  arise,  align  the 
parties  and  determine  the  destinies  of  the  nation." 

"Yet  are  we  not  wonderfully  corrupt?"  she 
ventured,  uncertainly. 

"  Men  want  corruption,"  he  retorted,  as  if  with 
a  sort  of  brutal  delight  in  the  truth.  "  Humph,  I 

292 


The   Mills   of  Man 

never  saw  a  reformer  whose  morality  in  office 
equaled  what  he  had  before  he  got  in.  He,  no 
more  than  the  practical  politician,  is  proof  against 
the  temptation  of  helping  his  friends.  What  re 
formers  really  yearn  for,  is,  not  so  much  honesty, 
as  having  fellow-gentlemen  for  rulers,  instead  of 
coarse-mannered  fellows.  Yet,  I  reckon,  in  the 
sight  of  God,  as  in  that  of  the  people,  there  ain't 
a  heap  of  difference  between  well-mannered  fel 
lows  and  coarse-mannered  ones."  And  Ransom, 
in  the  utter  weariness  of  cynicism,  relapsed  into  a 
crouch  again,  and  laid  his  cheeks  in  his  hands. 

The  thunder  shook  the  house  and  the  rain 
swirled  almost  horizontally  in  sheets.  The  Gov 
ernor  arose  to  close  the  windows.  Mrs.  Corlis 
hardly  noticed,  so  intent  was  she  upon  the  realiza 
tion  of  how  hopeless  was  reply  to  a  man  in  his 
humor,  or  to  the  specious  fallacies  he  advanced. 
The  rpom  darkened  yet  more,  and  only  the  fre 
quent  lightning  flashes  lit  it  blindingly  for  sec 
onds,  showing  the  woman,  still  as  a  lay  figure  in 
her  chair,  and  Ransom  striding  restlessly  about, 
the  tips  of  his  fingers  stuck  in  his  hip  pockets  and 
his  chin  dropped  into  his  shirt. 

The  storm  abated  somewhat,  though  the  room 
did  not  lighten. 

"  But  tell  me,"  she  bade,  "  is  there  no  other 
way  out  of  it  for  you?  Must  you  attach  yourself 

293 


The   Mills  of  Man 

to  a  false  issue  and  go  down,  inevitably,  in  a  spec 
tacular  defeat?  " 

Ransom  halted  in  his  narrow  walk. 

'*  There  is  something  more,"  he  said,  softly, 
yet  with  a  touch  of  grimness.  "  Silver  may  be  an 
illusion,  may  be  this  or  that;  but  it  furnishes  a 
good  weapon.  With  it  we  will  smite  plutocracy, 
this  plebeian  wealth  that  poses  and  struts  and  is 
haughty.  We  will  teach  its  pretentiousness  a  good 
lesson — take  a  fall  out  of  it,  as  they  say." 

"  Ah,  that  is  the  rub,  then,"  she  concluded, 
finely  scornful.  ;'  I  have  learned  at  last.  You  re 
sent  this  new  superiority,  because  it  overshadows 
your  own;  you  would  have  your  kind  king,  in 
stead  of  it." 

In  the  half  light  she  saw  him  straighten  and 
lift  up  his  head.  The  taunt  left  him  unstung;  he 
replied,  loftily, 

"  I  am  a  democrat  by  philosophy  and  by  mor 
ality.  And  I  distrust  caste,  because  the  results  of 
caste  are  want  of  sympathy,  ignorance  of  what 
exists  outside  a  class,  and,  hence,  conscious  or  un 
conscious  injustice  and  cruelty.  The  South  had 
the  true  philosophy  before  the  war;  but  its  mis 
fortune  was  to  inherit,  along  with  the  doctrine  of 
Jefferson,  the  institution  of  slavery." 

He  desisted  from  his  high  philosophizing  and 
turned  colloquial  again  and  personal. 

294 


The   Mills   of  Man 

"  Now,  at  the  present,  instead  of  slavery,  it  is- 
you  women  who  are  spoiling  democracy." 

She  retorted  on  the  instant, 

"  I  have  heard,  Governor,  that  it  is  you  spoils 
politicians  who  are  responsible  for  just  that." 
Next  moment  she  could  have  bitten  her  tongue 
out — was  it  the  charged  air  that  engendered 
spleen  ? 

There  came  a  green  and  yellow  sheet  of  flame 
that  showed,  demoniacally,  the  distorted  face  of 
Ransom.  Instantly  followed  the  thunder,  and 
the  solid  house  quaked.  Then,  in  the  contrasting 
darkness,  he  said  in  a  voice  of  suppressed  passion, 

'  You  know  who  made  me  what  I  am,  Mrs. 
Corlis,  and  you  are  not  the  one  to  reproach  me 
for  having  used  politics  as  some  men  use  whisky 
or  cards.  But,"  he  paused,  perhaps  to  restrain 
himself—  "  but,  I  may  tell  you  that  that  influence, 
your  influence,  or  whatever  malign  presence  it  was 
that  worked  for  my  destruction,  is  passed,  or  al 
most  passed.  Thank  God,  I  have  gotten  back  to 
my  earliest  ideals,  those  which  I  had  when  I  was 
a  country  boy.  I  am  an  American.  This  Silver 
you  deride  furnishes  the  opportunity  to  demon 
strate  that  I  am  such.  Though  it  may  sound  like 
cant  to  your  aristocratic  ear,  it  is  the  truth.  What 
America  first  stood  for  was  equality  of  rights  and 
opportunities,  and  the  uplifting — as  a  poet  of  your 
New  England,  not  of  mine,  has  said — the  uplift- 

295 


The   Mills   of  Man 

ing  of  the  manhood  of  the  poor.  Millionaires 
threaten  those  ideals,  aristocracy  does,  caste  does, 
snobbery  does.  I  am  enlisted  on  the  people's  side 
in  this  fight,  I  reckon." 

She  was  quivering;  there  was,  then,  as  Vaguely 
she  had  suspected,  a  spiritual  meaning  to  the  Silver 
movement,  as  well  as  the  literal  issue.  Ransom, 
the  soiled  mercenary,  was  he  preaching  it? 

"  And  women,"  she  asked  meekly,  "  you  say 
we  women  are  spoiling  democracy?  " 

'  Yes,"  he  answered,  savagely.  "  Most  of  you 
are  incarnate  aristocrats;  your  primary  instinct  is 
to  show  yourself  superior  to  somebody  else.  You 
are  gulled  perpetually,  taken  in  by  the  ribbons, 
the  gauds,  the  pomps — by  what  Burke  called  '  the 
solemn  plausibilities  of  this  world.'  You  voice 
every  pretension  and  absurdity;  your  ruling  pas 
sion  is  to  be  exclusive." 

"  Oh,  1  know  I  have  been  frivolous,"  she  inter 
rupted,  "  but,  pray,  what  else  have  I  done?  " 

She  was  painfully  conscious  how  shortly  re 
moved  from  the  ridiculous  the  position  was,  yet 
she  was  genuinely  contrite. 

"  Humph,  I  have  no  call  to  act  as  your  con 
fessor,  Mrs.  Corlis,"  he  retorted  brutally. 

Spots  glowed  in  both  her  cheeks,  but  she  made 
no  protest;  she  felt  it  was  her  due.  He  strode 
around  the  room  again. 

"  All  I  say  is,  you  women  are  building  up  in 
296 


The  Mills  of  Man 

every  town  of  the  United  States,  a  structure  called 
Society,  made  of  sordid  money,  but  crusted  over 
with  fantastic  pretensions  and  cemented  together 
by  imported  prejudices.  By  God,  it  would  be 
side-splitting,  if  the  consequences  weren't  so  tragi 
cal." 

The  clouds  abruptly  broke  apart  and  a  burst 
of  light  flooded  the  room.  The  birds  in  the 
branches  became  a  twittering,  joyful  chorus,  and 
the  thunder  was  faint  in  the  far  southeast. 

She  watched  him  from  under  puzzled  brows, 
watched  him  as  only  women  watch,  to  estimate 
the  soul.  Truly — she  realized  it  with  a  thankful 
pang — he  was  beyond  her  influence  now.  He  had 
attained  some  summit,  though  she  might  be  uncer 
tain  what  it  was;  she  believed  that,  at  last,  he 
had  entered  into  sincerity.  And  her  heart  was 
wrung  for  him;  for  she  saw  distinctly  of  what 
that  pile  was  composed,  whereon  he  now  stood, 
not  altogether  firmly,  but  nevertheless,  stood. 
His  passions,  which  had  been  so  fierce;  his  de 
nunciations,  which  had  been  so  bitter;  his  loneli 
ness,  which  had  been  lifelong;  his  tortures,  of 
that  poignancy  peculiar  to  intense,  proud  ego 
tisms — one  and  all  were  under  him  at  last  and  he 
was  mounting. 

"  Think  of  it,"  Ransom  mused  aloud,  "  think 
of  it — this  great  distinction  of  America,  this  sub- 

297 


The  Mills  of  Man 

lime  ideal  of  the  Republic,  jeoparded  by  a  horde 
of  ignorant  parvenus  and  a  rabble  of  vulgar 
women  I " 


298 


T 


XXXII 

THE  QUESTION  LEFT  WITH  MRS.  CORLIS 

HE  dinner,  served  at  four  o'clock  in  order 


to  allow  Governor  Ransom  to  catch  his 
train,  was  a  happy  conclusion  to  the  visit. 
The  air,  sparkling  with  ozone  after  the  storm,  en 
tered  by  the  doors  and  open  windows  and  affected 
to  gaiety  the  spirits  of  all  of  them. 

There  was  no  talk  of  politics  at  the  table.  The 
Governor  himself  was  genial  and  humorous,  his 
own  mood  cleared  by  his  outburst.  Senator 
Dawes,  highly  pleased  with  the  results  of  the  con 
ference,  exhibited  the  sincere  affection  he  cherished 
in  his  heart  for  his  former  protege  and  lieutenant. 
Mrs.  Corlis,  likewise,  was  engaging,  rather  sym 
pathetically,  however,  than  initiatively.  But  she 
was  rejoiced,  because  she  felt  that  she  had  made 
peace,  at  last,  with  Ransom,  and  because  she  was 
assured  that  he  was  not  doomed  to  evil. 

The  talk  and  the  speech,  also,  were  character 
istic.  While  Mrs.  Corlis  evinced  her  usual  tol 
erance  and  masculinity,  her  accent  and  her  idiom 
were  those  of  the  Eastern  great  world.  Her 
father,  here  at  his  country  home,  had  lapsed  into 
the  provincial  tongue,  and  gave  to  high  themes  a 

299 


The   Mills   of  Man 

bucolic  flavoring.  As  for  the  Governor,  his  phrase 
ology  was  his  own,  peculiarly  composed  of  rem 
nants  of  his  native  Kentucky  dialect,  of  Western 
colloquialisms,  and  of  the  slang  of  the  day. 

Both  Senator  and  Governor  were  devoted  to 
the  classics  in  the  old-fashioned,  appreciative,  un 
critical  way.  If  a  solace  of  the  Senator's  was  the 
reading  of  Homer  and  Virgil,  that  of  the  Governor 
was  the  study  of  Euripides  and  Lucretius;  they 
united  upon  Horace.  So,  at  the  table,  Latin  epi 
gram  balanced  Greek  apothegm. 

The  Senator  would  say, 

'  You  recall  this  line  of  Virgil,  don't  you,  Ran 
dolph,  my  boy?  " 

And  Ransom  would  reply, 

"  I  reckon  I  do.  How's  this  from  The  Medea? 
— Golly,  they  could  write,  those  old  ancients, 
couldn't  they?  " 

A  light  buggy  behind  a  big-limbed  horse,  with 
the  stableman  to  drive  it,  stood  at  the  front  door, 
to  take  the  Governor  six  miles  across  country  to 
catch  a  train  that  would  set  him  down  in  Spring 
field  by  midnight. 

Senator  Dawes  clasped  the  hand  of  the  younger 
man  in  both  his  own. 

"  Randolph,  my  boy,  I  thank  you;  you  have 
saved  me. — And — if  there's  any  nigger  in  the 
wood-pile,  you  have  my  promise." 

"  My  last  word,  Senator,"  Ransom  replied,  "  I 
300 


The  Mills  of  Man 

am  mighty  glad  we  found  a  basis  of  agreement; 
for  I  want  to  give  you  my  support,  personally, 
every  time  I  can." 

He  turned  to  Mrs.  Corlis. 

'  You  will  excuse  my  vehemence,  I  reckon." 
The  perverse  lips  quivered  just  a  bit.  "  We  are 
friends?" 

In  reply  she  looked  into  his  eyes  steadily,  her 
soul  in  hers. 

'  We  women  cannot  always  see  as  you  men  see ; 
but  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart  I  believe  in  you, 
Randolph  Ransom." 

He  gave  no  answer  save  a  single  look.  He 
bowed  to  the  Senator  and  stepped  into  the  buggy. 
At  the  turn  among  the  trees  he  looked  back,  wav 
ing  his  hat.  Then  Mrs.  Corlis,  watching  wist 
fully,  saw  him  turn  to  the  driver  with  a  friendly 
grin  and  offer  him  tobacco  from  a  silver  box.  That 
was  Ransom  exactly,  she  thought. 

Later  in  the  evening,  while  Mrs.  Corlis  lay 
dreaming  in  the  porch,  the  Senator  joined  her  from 
the  library. 

"  It  come  out  better  than  I  expected,  Vicky. 
Of  course,  I  felt  that  Ransom  would  do  all  he 
could  for  me,  and  I  saw  that  he  was  sorry  for 
the  old  back-number, — that's  what  they  call  me, 
nowadays.  But  he's  so  good  a  hater,  Randolph 
is,  and  it  came  out  so  strongly  in  the  Convention, 

301 


The   Mills   of  Man 

that  I  was  scared  to  death  I  couldn't  do  anything 
with  him." 

"What  has  he  agreed  to,  Pater?"  she  in 
quired,  absently,  her  real  mind  far  away.  "  He 
told  me  you  and  he  had  come  to  some  sort  of  un 
derstanding." 

The  Senator  hummed  and  hawed  a  bit. 

"  Ransom  has  promised  to  stay  out  of  the  fight 
and  inside  the  party;  that  is,  he'll  sulk  in  his 
tent — take  it  out  in  sulking  at  the  most.  In  return 
he  required  me  to  assure  him,  which  I  did,  that 
there  exists  no  corporation  deal,  or  the  like,  be 
hind  your  husband's  nomination." 

Her  ear  took  in  the  form  of  words,  which  her 
brain  registered;  but  their  significance,  somehow, 
appeared  to  her  only  weeks  afterward,  when  cir 
cumstances  called  them  from  the  storage  of  her 
memory. 

The  Senator  rubbed  his  hands. 

"  Good  news  for  us  to  take  up  to  Chicago  to 
morrow  with  us,  isn't  it?  It's  calculated  to  re 
lieve  a  few  apprehensions,  I  guess.  Your  old 
daddy,  Vicky,  is  going  to  die  in  the  Senate,  sure 
— his  obituaries  will  read  Senator,  not  former- 
Senator  Simeon  E.  Dawes." 

"  I  am  so  glad,"  she  said  and  slipped  a  hand 
into  his.  Quite  a  while  afterwards  she  asked, 

"  Pater,  do  you  think  Governor  Ransom  really 
sincere  in  his  mania  about  Silver?  " 

302 


The  Mills  of  Man 

Senator  Dawes  considered. 

"  I  will  answer  this  way,"  he  said  at  length. 
"  Ransom  is  past-master  in  practical  politics,  the 
best  of  his  kind,  at  least  in  Illinois.  He  forecasts 
the  future  and  then  organizes  to  win.  In  all  his 
talk  with  me  he  did  not  so  much  as  concern  him 
self  with  the  arguments  about  the  merits  or  the 
fallacies  of  Free  Silver.  What  absorbs  his  interest 
is  how  the  signs  signify  a  rising  tide  for  Silver 
and  how  the  conditions  everywhere  are  ripe  for 
a  great  popular  upheaval,  with  this  question  to  the 
fore." 

"Singular,  isn't  it?"    she  remarked. 

"Oh,  Randolph  is  no  statesman;  but  he  is  a 
wonderful  man,  nevertheless.  And  he  possesses 
not  only  strong  qualities,  but  virtues  that  are  none 
too  common.  He  has  loyalty  and  gratitude.  He 
believes,  of  course,  in  doing  in  Rome  as  the 
Romans  do,  and  generally  he  goes  the  Romans 
one  better  to  boot.  And  what  he  respects,  I  sup 
pose,  wouldn't  supply  a  moral  outfit  for  even  Mc- 
Bride.  But  he  can  stick  to  a  friend  in  a  way 
that  warms  the  heart  to  see,  and  his  word  is  better 
than  any  man's  I  know."  Darkness  veiled  their 
faces,  so  that  the  Senator  ventured,  "  Sometimes 
I  have  thought  if  Ransom  had  married  a  woman 
of  character  and  mind,  he  would  have  avoided  a 
good  deal  that  prejudices  his  career." 

Again,    after    a    time,    Mrs.    Corlis    inquired, 

20  303 


The   Mills   of  Man 

"  But,  Pater,  do  you  think  that  he  may  be  right 
and  that  we  are  actually  on  the  brink  of  a  political 
overturning?  " 

"How  should  I  know?"  he  replied,  with  a 
suspicion  of  petulance.  "  I  am  an  old  man,  con 
cerned  alone  about  getting  sent  back  to  Washing 
ton.  .  Randolph  is  marvelously  acute,  and,  it  is 
true,  America  is  a  very  different  proposition  from 
what  it  was  when  I  was  young.  Can  an  old  man 
estimate  new  forces?" 

After  the  Senator  had  returned  to  the  library, 
Mrs.  Corlis  remained,  as  she  had  done  the  night 
before,  a  long  time  in  the  porch.  She  thought 
of  Ransom.  She  confessed  the  revelation  of  the 
man's  high  endeavor  had  surprised  her;  yet,  she 
reflected,  she  ought  not  to  have  been  surprised, 
since  he  had  always,  in  her  experience,  been  actu 
ated  by  better  motives  than  he  professed. 

Did  the  revelation  do  nothing  more  than  sur 
prise  her?  Did  it  not  inflict  on  her  some  shame? 
The  question  intruded  itself  suddenly.  If  Ran 
som  were  not  the  mere  politician  he  was  accredited 
with  being,  was  not  her  responsibility  in  influencing 
his  course  and  turning  him  aside,  vastly  altered? 
To  induce  a  spoilsman  to  postpone  his  personal 
wrath,  was  one  thing;  to  require  a  sincere  man  to 
abandon  his  ideals  for  her  sake,  was  another. 

What  Ransom's  glance  had  told  her  was,  "  I 
profess  to  subordinate  my  interests,  or  my  passions, 

304 


The   Mills   of  Man 

to  the  friendship  I  bear  your  father;  but  in  reality 
it  is  because  you  ask  it  of  me.  And  I  understand 
your  motive — for  your  father,  yes,  but  also  for 
your  husband." 

Was  she  over-sensitive,  or  had  she,  indeed,  read 
that  knowledge  in  his  eyes?  She  was  not  sure. 
She  may  have  misread  his  eyes,  or  imputed  to  them 
her  own  thought;  but  her  knowledge  of  his  nature 
was  more  sure.  It  would  be  like  him  to  disdain 
to  admit,  even  by  a  glance,  that  he  was  capable 
of  an  act  of  such  chivalry;  nevertheless  it  would 
be  like  him,  also,  to  perform  it. 

The  more  she  considered  the  matter,  the  more 
she  was  convinced  of  its  probability.  For  it  was 
not  to  be  supposed  that  Ransom's  perception  had 
failed  to  compass  her  entire  motive. 


305 


DEMOCRACY 

THE  next  morning,  two  hours  before  the  train 
for  Chicago  went  through,  Mrs.  Corlis 
sallied  out  for  a  last  walk  with  the  dogs. 
She  went  across  the  fields  to  a  knoll  that  she  knew. 
When  she  had  reached  its  summit,  the  country 
side  for  many  a  mile  lay  stretched  out  beneath  her 
eye.  It  was  the  region  in  which  her  father's  father 
had  first  settled,  where  her  father  himself  had 
been  born,  while  in  the  house  just  below  most  of 
her  own  childhood  had  been  spent.  It  was  her 
own  land,  indeed,  and  the  land  of  the  people 
from  whom  she  had  inherited. 

Her  grandfather  she  had  never  seen,  but  her 
father  had  told  her  so  much,  in  detail,  about  him, 
that  the  quaint  personality  was  as  familiar  to  her 
as  many  that  lived.  He  had  been  an  itinerant 
peddler  of  books  and  pamphlets,  and,  for  all  else 
besides,  a  dreamer.  He  pushed  his  two-wheel 
cart  for  years  about  the  state,  sleeping  at  the 
farm-houses  on  his  way,  and  discoursing  a  homely 
philosophy  to  whoever  consented  to  hear.  He  had 
believed  in  simplicity  and  in  the  soul,  in  all  men 
and  in  democracy.  And  though  his  son  had  often 

306 


The   Mills   of  Man 

in  his  boyhood  been  "  hard  put  to  it  for  victuals 
to  put  into  his  mouth,"  the  memory  of  the  father 
was  revered  by  that  son. 

As  the  latter  was  fond  of  observing  to  his 
daughter, 

"  Your  grandfather,  Vicky,  had  the  heart  of  a 
child,  the  hardihood  of  a  stoic  and  the  mind  of  a 
sage.  He  barely  earned  a  living  all  his  life,  but 
he  was  a  great  man  in  my  estimation.  When 
men  grow  wise,  they  will  seek  for  such  a  man, 
and,  when  they  find  him,  they  will  make  him 
ruler,  as  the  Romans  made  Marcus  Aurelius  em 
peror." 

Standing  on  the  knoll,  that  morning  of  June, 
Mrs.  Corlis'  thoughts  reverted  to  that  simple  man. 
Then  followed  musings  on  her  own  father's  life : 
Out  of  what  lowliness  he  had  arisen,  what  keen 
struggles  he  had  had,  how  his  career  exemplified 
the  possibilities  America  contains  for  any  man. 

Three  generations — her  grandfather,  her  father, 
and  herself — did  they  not  illustrate  the  American 
progression?  And  she  was  the  thriftless  lily 
blooming  at  the  height  of  that  wholesome  stem; 
to  produce  her,  simple  working  lives  of  use  and 
merit  had  been  lived;  but  she  passed,  restlessly, 
a  luxurious  existence,  and  possessed  more  wealth 
and  power  than  an  English  duchess.  What  an 
unfolding  in  that  short  span! — Was  it  develop 
ment  or  degeneration? 

307 


The  Mills  of  Man 

Was  she  a  great  lady  in  reality?  Airs.  Corlis 
asked  herself.  Had  she  attained  the  feudal  senti 
ments  to  match  the  feudal  station  her  money  had 
thrust  upon  her?  Did  she  at  heart  believe  that 
the  many  were  born  to  work  for  the  few,  and  the 
few  to  set  for  the  many  a  fair  copy  of  manners 
and  refinement,  besides  generally  enjoying  them 
selves  ? 

She  pressed  the  questions  home  relentlessly,  as 
if  such  speculation  could  ease  heartache.  She 
asked  in  conclusion:  Could  she  rationally  sub 
scribe  to  this  latter-day  doctrine,  the  imavowed 
belief  of  the  millionaires,  the  secret  creed  of  her 
own  husband?  To  subscribe,  would  not  that  be 
to  repudiate  her  own,  to  admit  the  inferiority  of 
her  own  breed,  to  deny  them  the  capacity  for  the 
finer  sentiments  and  superior  qualities?  Yet,  if 
such  were  the  truth,  how  came  it  that  she  herself 
was  differentiated  from  the  stock  which  had  pro 
duced  her?  Nay,  to  what  were  due  her  honors, 
her  precedence,  her  place?  Why  was  she  lauded 
as  an  aristocrat  and  a  distinguished  personage? 
Was  it  not  the  deference  due  the  money  and 
achievements  of  her  uncle  and  father  that  resulted 
for  her  in  so  much  homage  and  so  much  flattery? 
Yet  their  strength,  whose  fruitage  she  enjoyed, 
had  been  born  of  the  common  people,  though 
society  affected  to  laud  her  select  quality. 

The  great  lady  honored  labor,  in  her  soul  she 
308 


The   Mills   of  Man 

honored  it.  Honor  of  labor  was  original  in  her 
New  England  blood,  and  she  reverted  to  her 
primal  faiths  in  these,  her  last  days,  when  she 
had  clear  sight.  Money,  adulation,  the  affectation 
of  her  generation,  the  influence  of  a  vain-glorious 
mate,  had  conquered  outwardly,  given  her  the 
semblance,  especially  at  times,  of  a  complete 
worldliness.  But  Cromwellian  blood  ran  in  her 
veins;  the  ideals  of  John  Milton,  those  upon 
which  the  New  England  of  her  fathers  had  been 
builded,  were  of  her  inheritance. 

As  she  looked,  for  the  last  time  in  her  life, 
across  those  familiar  fields,  Mrs.  Corlis  remem 
bered  yet  again  those  words  of  Chris  Ruggles  as 
to  what  constituted  the  heroic  struggle — how  he 
only  was  a  knight  who  had  borne  arms  in  the 
heat  of  common  day  and  toiled  his  share  in  the 
sordid  struggle  of  the  world  to  make  a  living. 
None  of  her  people,  she  fervently  thanked  God, 
had  been  parasites,  except  herself.  They  had  been 
real,  had  been  absorbed  in  the  work  and  care  and 
pain  which  is  the  natural  life  of  man,  as  contrasted 
with  that  life  she  knew  of  the  protected  class,  who 
nurse  the  passions  proudly  and  are  blown  with 
swollen  egotisms  and  blinded  with  the  superstitions 
of  superiority. 

And  like  a  revelation,  renewed  with  force,  there 
was  borne  in  upon  her  the  pathos  and  sublimity 
of  Democracy,  the  tragic  beauty  of  the  epic  of  the 
People.  309 


XXXIV 


THE    State    Central    Committee,    publicly    in 
charge  of  the  Republican  campaign,  had  its 
headquarters  in  the  Great  Northern  Hotel. 
The  Executive   Committee   of  the   State   Central 
Committee  set  up  its  headquarters  a  block  away 
in   the   Grand   Pacific   Hotel.      The   latter   head 
quarters   were  not  so  ostentatiously  open  to  the 
public  as  were  the  former. 

The  committees  gave  no  evidence  of  being 
"  hard  up,"  although  to  be  in  desperate  need  of 
ready  cash  is  characteristic  of  campaign  committees 
at  the  opening  of  hostilities.  In  fact,  an  opulent 
atmosphere  pervaded  both  headquarters,  and  even 
warmed  the  adjacent  halls.  The  committeemen 
themselves  wore  sleek  smiles,  nor  did  they  worry 
any  one  with  a  narrative  of  their  anxieties.  Politi 
cians  who  called,  departed  with  a  satisfied  smile, 
which  order  of  smile  reproduced  itself  and  spread, 
with  surprising  quickness,  throughout  the  frater 
nity  all  over  the  state.  The  word  passed  down 
the  line:  Of  "sinews  of  war"  there  was  to  be 
no  lack;  some  one's  fat  barrel  was  "on  tap;" 
"  the  boys  "  would  be  "  made  happy."  The  cam- 

310 


The   Mills   of  Man 

paign  was  to  be  none  of  your  moral  issues,  waged 
with  palaver  and  at  starvation  wages;  each  "  le 
gitimate  "  requisition  would  be  promptly  honored 
at  headquarters,  and  no  expense  would  be  spared 
to  elect  the  ticket  from  top  to  bottom. 

All  over  the  state  arose  the  sound  of  hammers 
tapping  rivets.  The  machine  was  being  over 
hauled  and  recoppered,  and  whoever  could  furnish 
a  modicum  of  skill  in  the  business  was  promised 
recognition  after  election;  moreover,  he  got  "  good 
money  down "  for  "  immediate  expenses  "  plus 
such  a  commission  for  himself  as  his  conscience 
or  his  prudence  would  allow  him  to  deduct.  Each 
"  worker  "  looked  to  it  that  his  particular  cog 
was  clean,  ready  to  fit  accurately  into  other  cogs, 
when  the  whole  complexity  should  be  set  going. 
"  Clatter,"  it  was  declared,  must  be  reduced  to  a 
minimum  by  unstinted  applications  of  "oil;" 
joints,  pistons,  shafts,  wheels  within  wheels,  gear 
of  every  kind,  must  be  found  capable  of  running 
like  an  engine  of  velvet  and  steel. 

For  the  powers  had  determined  it  was  to  be 
a  "  silent  "  campaign.  Smooth  men  were  the  men 
wanted,  smooth  methods  the  sole  ones  to  be  em 
ployed.  Oratory  was  to  be  discredited,  along 
with  brass-bands,  barbecues,  processions,  and  other 
noise-provoking  agencies.  "  Personal  persuasion 
personally  applied  "  was  the  text  preached  to  "  the 
workers."  Dialogue  always  was  to  be  preferred; 

3" 


The  Mills  of  Man 

"  button-hole  "  communications,  "  heart-to-heart  " 
talks,  "  green-back  plastering,"  all  quiet  and  ef- 
fectua^  expedients  were  recommended  by  head 
quarters,  and  put  in  practice  by  "  the  workers." 

Another  admonition :  discussion  must  be  avoid 
ed.  Let  the  Democrats  do  the  talking.  Answer 
never  a  word.  Their  plethora  of  speech  will  defile 
their  own  faces,  as  if  they  spat  against  the  wind. 
Their  fury  of  vituperation  must  find  no  echo, 
even,  and  consequently  will  sound  hollow.  Or 
ganization  pitted  against  fanatical  enthusiasm; 
mole-burrowing,  against  popular  rant;  mastery  of 
detail,  against  passionate  appeal:  such  was  the 
authoritative  program. 

Who  planned  this  method  of  campaign?  Whose 
barrel  was  on  tap,  from  which  flowed  the  oil, 
plentifully,  to  render  the  machinery  pliant  and  the 
friction  ml?  Some  said  it  was  the  head  of  Boss 
McBride,  whoever  else's  pocket-book  it  might  be. 
Other  wise  ones  averred  that  if  McBride  were 
"  trying  it  on  "  the  state  the  same  way  he  had 
"  tried  it  on  "  the  city,  he  would  wake  in  Novem 
ber  "  to  find  out  his  mistake."  Yet  many  even 
of  these  critics  soon  ceased  to  criticise  and  de 
veloped  fat  smiles  instead. 

Behind  the  State  Central  Committee  and  even 
behind  the  Executive  Committee,  who  published 
orders  and  filled  requisitions,  a  final  authority  ex 
isted.  That  fact  the  committees  realized  within 

312 


The   Mills   of  Man 

twenty- four  hours  after  "  opening  up  for  busi 
ness;"  they  shrewdly  perceived  that  their  func 
tion  in  this  campaign  was  limited  to  registering 
the  decrees  of  a  secret  committee.  They  suc 
cumbed  without  a  protest;  in  truth,  they  were 
delighted.  To  secure  a  competent  Czar  who  com 
mands  some  one's  money-bags,  is  the  highest  aspi 
ration  of  the  machine  in  a  campaign — an  aspira 
tion  not  always  gratified.  The  unanimous  yearn 
ing  is  for  a  leader  competent  to  conduct  them  into 
Canaan. 

The  new  method  of  campaign  was  well  inaugu 
rated  by  the  time  Senator  Dawes  and  his  daughter 
returned  from  Primrose  Hill.  The  word  that 
Ransom  was  "  gagged  "  solidified  the  satisfaction 
of  Corlis  and  McBride;  they  agreed  that  success 
was  guaranteed  now,  and  they  were  disposed  to 
resent  the  Senator's  curiosity  concerning  the  plans 
for  the  fall. 

"  Before  I  go  back  to  Washington,"  said  he, 
"  I  should  like  to  be  made  acquainted  with  what 
you  expect  of  me  in  the  active  weeks  of  September 
and  October.  Congress  will  not  adjourn  till  the 
middle  of  August,  I'm  afraid,  and  I  want  to  see 
if  I  can  get  any  vacation  before  I  go  on  the 
stump." 

The  request  plainly  irritated  Corlis,  but  the 
Senator  persisted.  He  had  claims,  moreover, 
which  even  his  masterful  son-in-law  must  respect. 

313 


The   Mills   of  Man 

It  was  he  who  had  "  managed  "  the  obstreperous 
Governor,  and,  if  he  insisted,  he  must  be  humored. 

The  Senator  frankly  stated  his  criticism  of  the 
plan,  when,  in  conference  with  Corlis  and  Mc- 
Bride,  it  was  submitted  to  his  judgment. 

"  But  we  don't  propose  to  allow  the  speakers 
to  emasculate  our  game,"  Corlis  interrupted,  with 
a  slight  show  of  asperity.  "  Speakers  can't  make 
the  mistakes  you  speak  of,  if  they  don't  speak." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  "Uncle 
Simeon,"  amazedly. 

Corlis  shrugged  his  shoulders.  The  old  man 
drew  himself  up. 

"I  have  been  forty  years  in  politics;  I  have 
helped  elect  six  governors,  been  elected  twice  my 
self.  I  guess  I  can  claim  to  know  a  little  how  it's 
done.  And  I  tell  you," — he  brought  down  his 
fist  into  the  palm  of  his  other  hand — "  the  people 
expect  to  have  the  issues  presented  to  them  from 
the  platform  as  usual.  They'd  think  it  almighty 
queer,  if  they  weren't." 

"  Oh,"  replied  Corlis,  with  an  amused  and  dep 
recatory  smile,  "  you'll  find  this  is  a  campaign 
of  modern  methods,  Senator.  We  are  reaching 
the  voters  by  print;  we  have  plastered  every  acre 
of  the  state  with  l  literature.'  We  find  tracts  and 
documents  do  all  the  work,  and  do  it  silently.  The 
danger  about  too  much  speechmaking  is  that  it 
excites  discussion  instead  of  spreading  conviction. 

314 


The   Mills  of  Man 

My  idea  is  that  oratory  should  be  used  in  the  very 
last  two  weeks  to  confirm  the  enthusiasm  previous 
ly  prepared  by  the  methods  we  are  using  now. 
Of  course,  Senator,  you  will  be  expected  to  make 
four  or  five  speeches,  but  not  until  October,  I 
should  say." 

The  Senator  had  listened  to  this  elucidation 
without  looking  up;  now  he  turned  to  McBride, 
calmly  omitting  his  son-in-law. 

"  Mr.  McBride,  I  have  no  doubt  of  the  wisdom 
and  efficiency  of  the  committee,  or  of  the  com 
prehensiveness  of  the  plans  you  have  arranged. 
But  there  will  be  more  to  do.  The  Democrats 
have  declared  for  Free  Silver  and  nominated  a 
popular  German.  If  Governor  Ransom  has  shown 
himself  amenable  to  the  influence  I  could  bring  to 
bear,  all  his  friends  have  not,  and  they  will  not. 
Organization  is  a  good  thing;  literature  is;  so 
is  money;  but  talk,  and  plenty  of  it,  will  be  im 
perative  this  fall.  I  know  what  I  am  talking 
about;  I've  seen  the  developments  of  many  a 
campaign.  You  must  prepare  to  face  the  De 
mocracy  upon  the  stump;  you  must  answer  their 
speakers.  You  two  don't  deal  in  ideas — you  may 
not  think  there's  any  danger  in  an  idea — but  an 
idea  left  to  itself  sprouts  like  an  old  potato  in  a 
cellar.  I  cannot  consent  to  let  this  campaign  re 
main  entirely  a  still-hunt.  Understand  me,  gentle- 


315 


The   Mills   of  Man 

He  drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height  and 
threw  back  his  head.  He  meant  to  impose  his 
dignity  upon  these  practical  men,  as  at  times  he 
did  on  delegations  and  committees  who  visited  him 
in  Washington.  He  looked,  in  a  way,  Webster- 
Jan. 

'  There's  no  use  in  getting  grandiloquent,"  in 
terposed  Corlis,  with  polite  disdain.  "  We've  ar 
ranged  to  have  you  make  six  speeches,  at  least,  in 
upper  Illinois,  and,  for  my  part,  you  can  make 
six  more,  if  you  like,  anywhere  you  like." 

Hereupon,  to  Corlis'  surprise,  the  Boss  spoke 
up. 

"  I'm  of  one  mind  with  the  Senator,  I'm  think- 
in'.  What  you  say,  sir,  is  sense."  Little  twists 
of  his  vast  body  emphasized  his  temporary  revolt. 
"  Corlis  is  all  right;  he's  a  first-class  organizer, 
and  that's  so.  But  he's  a  business  man  in  politics 
and  he  ain't  had  our  experience,  Senator.  That's 
why  he  don't  recognize  these  here  little  fine  points 
in  the  game  like  we  do,  you  and  me,  Senator. 
What  we  want,  Corlis,  is  the  advice  of  a  true 
statesman  as  to  how  to  run  this  here  campaign,  and 
I  plunk  for  what  the  Senator  says — he  knows." 
He  snapped  a  big  thumb  and  finger,  if  not  literal 
ly  in  his  colleague's  face,  yet  there  in  intent.  "  You 
lay  down  what  line  of  argument  the  people'll  want 
this  fall,  and  we'll  go  by  it,  Senator,  and  you  make 
out  your  own  itinerancy " — he  rolled  forth  the 

316 


The   Mills   of  Man 

grand  word — "  and  speak  accordin'  to  the  dictates 
of  your  own  conscience.  We'll  stand  for  it,  I'll 
be  damned  if  we  won't." 

Corlis  was  masterful,  but  he  never  expostulated. 
He  had  learned,  early  in  life,  that  there  were 
more  ways  than  one  to  any  end,  but  no  way  at 
all  if  one's  temper  went.  Being  out-voted,  he 
acquiesced;  but  he  resolved  that  his  father-in-law's 
appearance  on  the  platform  that  fall  would,  never 
theless,  be  no  more  than  a  perfunctory  perform 
ance. 

Later  he  took  occasion  mildly  to  remonstrate 
with  McBride  for  humoring  "  the  old  gentleman's 
obsolete  prejudices."  Said  he, 

'The  Senator  is  hopelessly  behind  the  times; 
his  sole  idea  of  political  management  is  to  argue. 
But  he  is  gradually  finding  out  his  dear  '  peepul ' 
are  extinct,  and  that  what  practical  men,  like  you 
and  I,  are  after  is  results,  not  vaudeville.  Your 
backing  him  only  tends  to  get  his  senile  obstinacy 
up." 

But  again  McBride  surprised  his  colleague; 
perhaps  he  surprised  himself. 

'  There's  such  a  thing  as  a  decent  respect,"  he 
rejoined.  "  The  Senator  was  in  politics  when  you 
and  me  wras  kids.  His  opinion  is  worth  hearin', 
and  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  have  his  feelin's  hurt." 

"Turned  sentimental,  have  you,  McBride?" 
Mr.  Corlis  smiled  good-naturedly. 


The   Mills   of  Man 

'  That's  my  bizness,"  growled  the  Boss. 
Corlis  knew  when  to  refrain  from  irritating  a 
bear. 


XXXV 

THE   OLD    INFLUENCE 

IF  I  am  not  the,  inventor  of  the  use  of  lit 
erature  in  a  campaign,  I  am  the  man  who 
has  developed  its  practical  possibilities.  In 
fact,  I  have  revolutionized  the  business  of  carrying 
an  election.  McBride  and  your  father's  friends, 
whom  you  had  here  to  breakfast,  you  remember, 
sneered  at  first,  and  would  like  to  have  opposed. 
But  I  had  my  way.  I  generally  have  my  way — 
without  any  bluster  or  commotion  either — and 
they've  all  come  around  to  my  methods  now,  ex 
cept,  perhaps,  the  Senator.  Victoria,  after  I've 
won  this  first  fight,  when  I  am  governor,  my  next 
move,  you  will  see,  will  be  on  Washington,  where 
I  mean  to  drive  a  team  of  reformers  and  practical 
politicians  under  the  same  yoke  down  Pennsylvania 
Avenue.  Would  not  our  friend,  Arthur  Hillis  Col 
lar,  and  your  admirer,  Boss  McBride,  compose  a 
spanking  team  ?  The  lamb  and  the  lion — but  they 
shall  not  lie  down,  they  shall  pull  together,  and 
pull  me." 

Thus  Candidate  Corlis,  indulging  his  vanity  in 
the  penetralia  of  his  home,  delivered  himself  to 
his  wife,  vaunting  how,  while  she  was  down  at 

319 


The  Mills  of  Man 

Primrose  Hill,  he  had  become  in  reality,  though 
not  in  name,  his  own  manager. 

The  enthusiasm,  however,  with  which  his  wife 
was  accustomed  to  respond,  was  absent  in  this  in 
stance.  His  failure  to  evoke  it  caused  him  aston 
ishment  and  then  chagrin.  He  felt  left  in  the  air, 
so  to  speak.  Therefore  he  remarked  with  asper 
ity, 

"  Ordinary  affairs  seem  to  possess  slight  inter 
est  for  you  after  Primrose  Hill.  No  doubt  you 
experienced  plenty  of  melodrama  with  your  Gov 
ernor." 

"  You  are  supercilious,"  she  returned,  gazing 
at  him  with  eyes  from  which  the  dream  had  not 
totally  departed.  "  It — it  is  rather  common  to 
be  so — is  it  not?  "  she  added  a  bit  loftily. 

"  You  found  Ransom  not  common,  I  suppose," 
he  sneered.  "  He  played  the  hero  like  an  actor, 
and  with  his  bombast  and  his  attitudes  succeeded 
in  imposing  on  your  imagination,  it  appears.  You 
always  were  easy  on  the  sentimental  side,  Vic 
toria." 

She  looked  across  the  dinner  table  at  her  hus 
band's  handsome,  contemptuous  countenance — 
looked  down  from  the  height  of  her  mind. 

"  Governor  Ransom  is  a  very  noble  gentleman,'* 
she  testified. 

Mr.  Corlis  was  infuriated. 
320 


The   Mills  of  Man 

"  An  instance  of  early  romanticism  revived, 
isn't  it?  "  he  scoffed. 

"What?"  she  asked,  so  engrossed  with  her 
own  thought  that  a  moment  was  required  before 
the  words  penetrated  to  her  consciousness.  She 
arose  majestically.  "  Your  insinuation  is  unworthy 
of  you,  Walter  Corlis,  and  it  does  injustice  to  the 
devotion  my  life  has  been  to  yours." 

He  bent  his  attention  to  his  knife  and  fork,  and 
shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Oh,  come  down  to  earth,  Victoria.  You've 
been  so  high-pitched  since  you  returned,  that  it's 
a  wonder  you  speak  to  me  in  anything  short  of 
blank  verse." 

She  swept  from  the  room;  but  Mr.  Corlis  fin 
ished  dinner.  Before  he  had  done,  however, 
he  adjudged  himself  a  fool,  telling  himself  he 
had  acted  like  a  young  man  with  nerves. 

"  Hang  her  mystic  visions  and  her  high-trag 
edy  airs,"  he  swore  in  his  mind;  "  they'd  irritate 
a  saint.  And  she's  had  'em  hard  ever  since  she 
came  home.  Humph,  Ransom  must  have  laid 
himself  out  to  be  agreeable,  damn  him !  " 

The  upshot  was  that  Mr.  Corlis  actually  took 
the  pains  to  be  jealous  on  his  wife's  account.  It 
was  impossible  for  him  to  have  felt  jealousy  for 
her  as  a  woman,  but  he  was  in  the  habit  of  monop 
olizing  her  mind  and  he  resented  heatedly  this 
usurpation  of  some  portion  of  it  by  another. 

321 


The   Mills   of  Man 

Mrs.  Corlis,  by  that  grace  of  magnanimity  she 
had  in  such  abundance,  kept  their  next  meeting 
free  even  from  the  consciousness  that  there  had 
been  so  much  as  a  misunderstanding.  She  went 
even  a  step  in  his  direction — to  make,  amends  she 
allowed  herself  to  be  drawn  back,  or  appear  to 
be  drawn  back,  into  the  circle  of  his  influence. 
She  accepted  the  effort  he  displayed  to  regain  her 
favor  and  to  rekindle  her  interest.  If  a  subtle 
difference  remained,  if  the  old  wistful,  ill-sup 
pressed  appeal  no  longer  inhabited  the  eyes  she 
turned  to  him,  yet  she  still  could  manifest  her 
pleasure  in  his  companionship,  and  could  attest 
her  faith  in  the  greatness  of  his  destiny. 

On  his  side,  slighted  egotism  pricked  him  on 
to  the  reconquest  of  her  mind,  and  the  evidence 
that  after  all  she  remained  so  much  to  him,  she 
found  dear.  His  superficial  excellences  were  so 
undoubted — his  superiority  of  body  and  his  indi 
vidual  charm.  He  knew  the  world  so  well  and 
could  be  so  diverting  when  he  chose.  To  have 
all  these  qualities  engaged  in  the  endeavor  to  please 
her,  to  win  her  back,  her  vanity  found  delicious, 
her  woman's  love  found  irresistible. 

Gradually  he  converted  her  to  his  worship 
again.  Again  he  demonstrated  to  the  intellect 
with  which  in  a  man's  sense  she  was  endowed, 
that  after  all  his  sort  of  a  man,  the  man  he  was, 
was  the  man  of  the  time.  He  showed  her  his  dom- 

•322 


The   Mills  of  Man 

inance  of  the  committees,  his  seizure  of  the  whole 
management  of  the  campaign,  his  new  grip  upon 
the  party  leadership. 

He  was  much  too  clever  to  depreciate  directly 
the  abilities  of  Governor  Ransom.  But,  just  as 
formerly  he  had  contrived  to  instil  into  her  mind 
a  doubt  of  the  intellectual  stature  and  even  of  the 
granitic  integrity  of  the  Senator,  her  father,  so  now 
he  succeeded  in  obscuring  largely  her  newly  dis 
covered  esteem  of  Ransom's  quality.  Mr.  Corlis 
was  ever  girding  smartly  at  sentimentalists  and 
the  oratorical  temperament;  he  was  continually 
contrasting  the  leadership  of  the  Napoleonic  or 
Bismarckian  type  with  that  of  the  character  of 
Gladstone  or  of  Sumner. 

Meantime  Mrs.  Corlis  had  resumed  her  secon 
dary  interests,  interrupted  by  the  sojourn  at  Prim 
rose  Hill,  in  both  the  McBrides  and  in  Christopher 
Ruggles.  In  accordance  with  the  resolution  she 
had  formed,  she  called  every  week  upon  Mrs. 
McBride  and  seemed  inclined  to  push  the  acquaint 
ance  into  intimacy.  Naturally,  observers  ascribed 
the  move  to  politics,  but  Gretchen  herself  knew 
better. 

Likewise  Mrs.  Corlis  did  what  she  could  for 
Ruggles.  She  invited  him  often  to  luncheon  and 
she  assiduously  drew  out  from  him  his  views. 

One  day  she  said  to  him, 

"  Chris,  I  met  Miss  Hildegarde  Brown  at  the 

323 


The   Mills   of  Man 

McBrides'  yesterday  afternoon;  I  had  not  seen 
her  since  the  Convention  time.  She  has  a  large 
outlook,  I  fancy.  She  isn't  consumed  with  the 
pettiness  of  things  like  the  most  of  us  women — 
large  interests  concern  her." 

"  She  is  concerned  with  them  successfully  too," 
the  reporter  not  a  little  proudly  said.  "  She  will 
make  twenty  thousand  dollars  or  more  this  year, 
and  though  she  is  inclined  to  think  it  a  disgrace  to 
be  rich,  she  admits  she'll  have  hard  work  avoiding 
the  disgrace  before  she  dies." 

Mrs.  Corlis  did  not  smile  at  what  in  Ruggles 
was  decided  humor;  she  was  intent  upon  her 
point. 

"  Money  will  not  suffice  to  make  her  happy, 
Chris — she  needs  more  than  money ;  all  we  women, 
who  are  true  women,  do.  There's  heart  hunger 
in  her  eyes. — I  want  you,  Chris,  to  marry  her." 

He  reddened,  gasped. 

"I?  Why  I — I  can  hardly  take  care  of  myself 
as  it  is." 

"  She  loves  you,  Chris." 

"  No,  no,  you  can't  know  that!  " 

"  Her  face  thirsts,  Chris.  She  is  not  happy 
with  herself;  her  life,  successful  as  it  is,  does  not 
suit  her.  You  know,  you  must  know,  Chris,  she 
cares." 

"  She  is  my  best  friend  on  earth;  she  has  helped 
me  more  than  anyone  ever  did,"  confessed  Rug- 

324 


The   Mills   of  Man 

gles,  in  a  burst.  "  When — when  I  was  hopeless, 
she  got  me  my  place  on  The  Pundit. — She  saved 
me." 

'  Then,  Chris,  for  gratitude  do  what  you  alone 
can  do — make  her  happy.  Besides,  it's  not  all 
zeal  in  her  behalf;  for  I  should  feel  so  safe  about 
you,  if  I  knew  she  were  your  wife." 

The  consideration  did  not  appeal  favorably  to 
Ruggles. 

'  You  think  it  would  be  a  wise  move  for  an  im 
practicable  dreamer  like  me.  No  doubt  I  should 
be  safer.  It  might  be  rather  hard  on  her,  though." 

Mrs.  Corlis  relinquished  that  method  of  at 
tack. 

"  It  could  not  be  bad  for  you,  of  course;  but, 
to  tell  the  truth,  Chris,  it  is  not  you  I  am  thinking 
of,  so  much  as  the  poor  girl  herself.  She  is  made 
of  splendid  stuff,  we  know,  and  she'll  not  whimper; 
but  her  face  haunts  me.  I  feel  as  if  she  lived  with 
loneliness  as  her  familiar  and  that  she  loathed  it. 

"  Suppose  she  does  make  twenty  thousand  to 
your  one;  did  you  never  think  that  a  woman  can 
be  wronged  by  her  own  wealth?  " 

'  That  is  the  way  an  adventurer  would  reason," 
excepted  Ruggles. 

"  Chris,    don't   pose    to   yourself — your   worst 

enemy  would  not  suspect  you  of  being  one.     That 

would   be    ridiculous."      She    affected   sharpness. 

'  You  know  whether  you  love  her,  do  you  not?  " 

325 


The   Mills   of  Man 

He  hung  a  sheepish  head. 

"  No,  I  can't  say  exactly  that  I  do,  Mrs.  Cor- 
lis." 

Her  missionary  zeal  was  becoming  rapidly 
mixed  with  humorous  appreciation. 

"  Chris,  you  are  impossible,"  she  exclaimed. 
"  Come,  as  the  politicians  say,  get  off  the  fence; 
get  down  on  one  side  or  the  other.  Can  you  not 
decide,  for  once,  as  any  man  with  a  tenth  of  your 
mind  could  do?  " 

1  Indeed,  I  wish  I  could,  Mrs.  Corlis;  that  is 
just  exactly  what  I've  wanted  to  do  all  my  life." 

His  serious  concern  was  comical. 

"  Oh,  Chris,  do  try,  for  once  do  try;  it  will 
do  you  good,  and  relieve  other  people."  She  ad 
monished  her  protege  strictly,  though  she  could 
not  help  smiling. 

The  Boss  had  reached  home  the  night  before 
to  find  Hildegarde  Brown  with  his  wife.  The 
first  thing  he  learned  from  them  wras  the  marvelous 
news  that  Mrs.  Corlis  had  called  that  afternoon. 

"  And  I  was  so  glad,"  declared  Gretchen, 
"  Card  was  here  to  see  her;  and  how  kind  and 
sweet  she  is." 

;'  Well,  she  can  afford  to  be,"  said  Card. 
"  There's  nothing  much  to  ruffle  her  temper,  I 
guess." 

The  Boss  sent  a  shrewd  glance  in  her  direc 
tion. 

326 


The   Mills   of  Man 

'  You  ain't  forgiven  her  yet  for  bein'  the  mis 
sus  of  Mr.  Corlis,  are  you,  Card?  "  he  said. 

"  No,  I'm  not,  I  might  as  well  own  up,"  Card 
laughed,  in  her  explosive  way. 

"  She  can't  help  him,  Mrs.  Corlis  can't," 
Gretchen  pouted.  "  Suppose  he  is  stuck-up — Mrs. 
Corlis  ain't  one  bit  so,  Card." 

"  Oh,  I'm  willing  to  do  the  woman  justice," 
Card  rejoined.  "  Only  I  reserve  my  right  not  to 
like  her  style." 

"  Certain,"  acquiesced  McBride.  "  But  Mrs. 
Corlis,  Card,  is  a  fine  lady  all  the  same. — Wife, 
bring  Card  and  me  some  beer.  Card,  sit  down 
at  the  table  'longside  me  and  we'll  indulge  our 
selves  in  a  little  talk." 

Card  proceeded  to  inquire  of  the  Boss  about  the 
progress  of  the  campaign. 

"  Looks  well,  looks  well,"  McBride  replied. 
"  We're  goin'  to  slip  the  whole  length  of  the 
ticket  through  as  easy  as  they  fill  a  sausage  out  in 
Packingtown — unless — "  the  Boss  laid  a  finger 
against  his  nose,  "  something  unexpected  trips  us 
up  beforehand." 

"  Is  Mr.  Corlis  as  confident  as  you?  " 

"  Dead  certain  sure — too  much  so  to  suit  me, 
Card.  I've  seen  the  tide  turn  tail  at  the  end  of  the 
last  moment,  after  you'd  quit  suspectin'  it  entirely. 
But  Corlis,  he  won't  listen,  and  the  chances  favor 
his  way  of  thinkin'.  The  state  ain't  never  been  so 

327 


The   Mills   of  Man 

canvassed  and  platted  out  and  nailed  down,  as 
Corlis  and  me  have  done  to  it  this  time.  But  the 
feller  who  can  tell  how  a  woman's  goin'  to  jump, 
he's  so  cunnin',  is  the  feller  who  can  make  money 
on  his  election  bets.  I  ain't  that  man." 

"  Mr.  Corlis  is  making  no  mistakes,  is  he,  Mc- 
Bride?" 

"  Not  that  I'm  on  to,  Card.  Corlis  is  a  fine 
manager  all  right,  there  ain't  no  denyin'  that; 
but  God  Almighty's  self  has  got  no  walkaway  in 
the  election  business,  now  I'm  tellin'  you." 

"  He'll  win  though,  won't  he — he  will  be  Gov 
ernor?  "  she  asked,  as  if  challenging  the  Boss  to 
a  denial. 

"  That  ain't  what's  worrying  me,"  confessed 
McBride.  "  Let  him.  What  I  want  to  know  is 
how  he's  goin'  to  feel  towards  me  after  he  gets 
set  up  at  Springfield.  Corlis  is  mighty  smart,  some 
too  much  so  to  suit  my  taste  entirely.  There's 
just  one  trouble  with  these  smart  fellers,  I've  ob 
served;  generally  they're  certain  sure  the  other 
feller  is  a  fool.  That's  where  Corlis'll  fall  down, 
if  he's  a-goin'  to." 

"  Why,  is  he  giving  himself  airs  over  you  any, 
McBride?" 

"  Can  hardly  say  that,  Card.  But  there's  a 
mighty  cold  film  in  his  eyes  that  I  don't  like  en 
tirely — damn  his  eyes !  "  suddenly  burst  out  the 
Boss  half  in  a  fury.  "  Corlis  thinks  he's  got  me 

328 


The  Mills  of  Man 

where  the  hair's  short  and  that  now  I've  got  to  see 
him  through.  But  I'll  show — I'll  show  him,  if  he 
tries  to  monkey  with  me  and  the  organization. 
He  can't  throw  us  in  the  air  after  the  election,  if 
that's  his  game." 

"  Depend  upon  it,  that  is  his  game,"  asserted 
Card.  She  spoke  intensely.  "  Governor  Corlis 
won't  know  you  down  at  Springfield  any  more 
than  he  can  help.  The  silk-stockings  and  the  re 
formers  will  be  dear  to  him,  not  a  city  Boss  with  a 
reputation,  like  you." 

McBride's  plethoric  veins  had  swollen  under 
the  instigation  of  the  idea  of  such  treachery;  but 
he  controlled  himself.  One  hand  waved  off  Card. 

"  I  won't  listen  to  you ;  you'll  have  me  preju 
diced  entirely.  I  want  to  make  sure  for  myself, 
and  you  hate  him,  Card,  I  don't  know  why,  but 
you  hate  him  fit  to  kill." 

She  flushed  desperately  and  rose  from  the  table. 

"  I  must  go,  Gretchen,"  she  said.  She  would 
not  stay  to  dinner  or  all  night,  as  Mrs.  McBride 
entreated  her  to  do.  But  at  the  door  she  called 
back  to  the  Boss, 

"  All  the  same,  McBride,  you  aren't  made  up  in 
your  own  mind  whether  you  want  to  see  him  gov 
ernor  or  not." 

"  I  ain't  sure,  that's  right,"  replied  the  Boss. 
"  But  sh — ;  just  now  he  has  me  where  the  hair's 
short,  Corlis  has. — Here's  hopin'  for  a  change." 

329 


XXXVI 

NO  BETTER  THAN  HER  WORLD 

HILDEGARDE  BROWN  looked  up  from 
the  paper  she  had  been  considering.  Two 
vertical  lines  made  clefts  between  her 
brows  and  the  chiseled  lips  drew  keen  and  clear. 
Her  aquilinities  seemed  all  accentuated,  so  that 
what  was  not  intelligence  was  will.  The  face  was 
a  sword's  edge. 

Her  gray  eyes,  through  the  wide  window  at  her 
side,  Jooked  across  the  broken  uplands  of  roof  and 
wall,  through  which,  at  a  depth,  runs  La  Salle 
street,  the  Wall  Street  of  the  West.  It  gave  di 
rection  to  her  thoughts. 

"  I  know  well  what  you  are,"  her  mind  ad 
dressed  the  temples  of  finance.  "  You  can't  fool 
me.  I  know  all  your  tricks  and  lies,  and  that 
there's  hardly  an  honest  man  from  end  to  end  of 
you.  And  I  haven't  much  respect  for  you.  All 
you  think  of  is  results — you're  all  American." 

"  But  am  I  different?  "  she  asked  herself  pres 
ently.  "Why  should  I  be?  The  air  I  breathe 
has  circulated  in  your  lungs,  and  what  I  am, 
you've  made  me.  Why  should  I,  indeed,  be  any 
more  scrupulous  than  I've  been  taught?  It  don't 

330 


The   Mills  of  Man 

pay  to  be  too  nice;  it  only  pays  the  other  fellow, 
the  one  that's  looking  for  results.  Skin  or  be 
skinned,  that  is  the  law.  It's  up  to  me  to  choose." 

She  swung  her  chair  half  round,  so  that  her 
glance  encountered  the  campaign  lithograph 
tacked  upon  the  wall.  She  had  had  it  put  up  to 
please  McBride  and  to  mortify  herself.  The  like 
ness  it  displayed  was  entitled:  "  For  Governor, 
Walter  H.  D.  Corlis  of  Cook." 

She  could  not  face  it  directly,  but  looked  at  it 
askance  between  lids  a  little  closed.  She  scrutin 
ized  it  a  long  time,  however,  and  the  muscles  of 
her  face  hardened  even  more.  If  she  had  been 
iron,  now  she  became  steel. 

'  Yes,  he  is  distinguished,  even  in  that  cheap 
and  gaudy  process,"  she  concluded.  '  To  look  at 
it,  merely,  would  convince  one  that  he  is  a  great 
man.  But  /  know  better;  I  know  him  too  well. 
He's  spurious,  only  a  clever  devil." 

She  eyed  the  lithograph  hostilely  still  awhile. 
Then  suddenly  she  wheeled  around  to  her  open, 
desk. 

"  I'll  do  it,  I  swear  I  will;  I'll  fix  him;  hang 
the  scruples  1  Do  you  fight  the  devil  with  holy 
water,  or  set  a  preacher  to  catch  a  thief?  " 

She  rang  the  bell  and  an  office  boy  came  in. 

"  Telephone  the  Pundit  office  I  want  to  see 
Mr.  Christopher  Ruggles  the  moment  he  comes 
in.  Get  a  move  on  about  it." 


The   Mills  of  Man 

The  campaign  had  not  entered  the  period 
dubbed  "  the  home  stretch  "  as  yet,  but  that  time 
was  opening  just  before  the  runners.  Its  stress 
would  test  utterly  the  work  of  preparation  by  both 
parties.  Apparently  the  silent  tactics  of  Corlis 
and  McBride  had  proved  efficacious.  If  Silver 
seethed  down  in  Egypt,  the  commotion  seemed 
bottled  up  completely  in  that  territory.  Elsewhere 
was  little  discussion  and  no  enthusiasm.  Governor 
Ransom  sat  in  the  Executive  Mansion  in  Spring 
field,  and  since  his  memorable  defiance  of  the  Con 
vention  had  not  once  opened  his  mouth.  The 
election  seemed  likely  to  go  Republican  by  de 
fault;  W.  H.  D.  Corlis  seemed  assured  of  becom 
ing  governor.  He  would  not  "  sweep  "  the  state 
or  excite  much  enthusiasm;  but  he  bade  fair  to  be 
"  put  in  "  by  a  safe  plurality,  and  a  good  game  of 
politics,  such  as  politicians  love,  close,  scientific, 
and  dealt  beneath  the  table,  would  have  been 
played. 

Card  was  of  pure  Yankee  stock;  thence  her 
composition  of  such  opposites  as  nerves  and  steel. 
Her  forebears  shared,  no  doubt,  in  that  dubious 
heritage,  the  far-famed  conscience  of  New  Eng 
land;  but  she  had  sloughed  off,  at  least,  its  sickly 
parasites,  cant  and  pharisaism.  The  West  had 
cradled  her;  Chicago  had  been  her  education; 
her  wits  had  been  filed  upon  La  Salle  street,  and 
so  had  her  scruples,  too.  She  was  courageous,  no- 

332 


The   Mills  of  Man 

ble,  generous,  and  when  her  ends  were  not  the 
best,  she  thoroughly  thought  them  so.  But  no 
cheap  sentimentalism  hindered  her  making  a  good 
fight,  and  as  she  was  a  loyal  friend,  so  was  she  a 
whole-hearted  foe.  In  truth,  she  was  nobly  an 
unconscious  pagan  in  her  way,  nor  had  the  slight 
est  breath  of  degeneration  so  much  as  tarnished 
the  brightness  of  her  metal. 

"  Chris,"  she  said,  enthusiastically,  with  dilat 
ing  eyes,  "  sit  down.  It's  something  important. 
How  would  you  like  a  great  '  scoop,'  the  greatest 
ever  was,  that'll  make  the  town  howl  and  set  Illi 
nois  by  the  ears?  " 

"  I'd  like  it,  of  course,"  replied  Ruggles,  with 
what  violent  animation  may  be  expected  of  a  man 
all  of  whose  enthusiasms  are  abstract.  '  Tell  me 
what  it  is." 

"  Just  this.  Read  this."  She  handed  him  some 
typewritten  sheets.  "  It's  a  copy.  Read  or  don't, 
as  you  choose.  You  don't  need  to.  All  you  need 
is  just  to  take  it  to  MacPherson  and  your  fortune's 
made,  so  far  as  The  Pundit  goes." 

Ruggles  glanced  through  the  opening  para 
graph  and  his  face  lengthened.  Then  he  shifted 
the  sheets  hastily. 

"  Guess  I'll  read  it,"  he  muttered,  and  settled 
himself. 

Card  watched  him  intently  as  he  read,  in  order 

333 


The   Mills  of  Man 

to  anticipate  the  effects  of  the  revelation,  if  she 
could. 

At  the  end  he  looked  up,  nonplussed;  there 
was  a  mixture  of  amazement  and  incredulity  in  his 
expression. 

"  I  don't  understand  what  you  mean  exactly," 
he  began,  slowly.  "  Of  course,  I  was  aware  that 
something  was  going  on  in  your  office  here,  I've 
run  across  Mr.  Corlis  and  the  Boss  here  so  often. 
But,"  he  struck  the  papers  with  the  backs  of  his 
fingers,  "  I  had  no  idea  of  this.  Is  it  really 
true?" 

'  Yes,"  she  answered  simply.  She  was  still 
watching  his  face. 

He  hesitated. 

"  Well,  if  it's  so,"  he  said,  at  last,  "  it's  the 
most  criminal  thing  I  ever  heard  of.  Why,  Card, 
do  you  realize  what  it  is?  It's  a  scheme  to  rob  the 
city,  to  steal  from  the  people,  to  secure  for  a  song 
the  rights  of  generations  yet  unborn." 

The  indignation  of  a  slow  man  was  boiling  up 
in  him;  yet  commonly  he  was  too  deeply  fixed  in 
his  own  abstractions,  or  else  too  far  disillusioned, 
to  be  stirred  up  much. 

"  I  thought  you'd  see  it  so,"  commented  Card, 
drily,  a  little  smile  of  satisfaction  appearing 
round  her  lips.  "  You  see  too,  don't  you,  how  we 
can  prevent  it?  It  lies  in  our  power;  we  can  stop 
the  robbery." 

334 


The  Mills  of  Man 

Gradual  enlightenment  dawned  in  Ruggles' 
eyes. 

"  Oh,  I  see,"  he  said,  and  unconsciously  his 
voice  chilled,  "  you  want  me  to  take  these  to  the 
editor."  He  shook  the  sheets  in  his  hand. 

"  Of  course  you'll  do  it,"  challenged  Card.  "It 
will  be  the  greatest  '  scoop  '  for  you  the  old  Pun 
dit  ever  had." 

Ruggles  was  looking  hard  at  her,  in  his  turn. 

"Card,  do  you  mean  it?"  Amazement,  not 
suspicion,  cried  out  in  him.  '  You  haven't 
thought — how  could  you  answer  for  it  to  Boss 
McBride?" 

Card  killed  the  scruple  with  a  smile. 

"  I  wouldn't  answer,  you  goose;  I'd  just  go 
and  get  it  done." 

"You  can't  mean  McBride  wants  it  done?" 
gasped  Chris.  "  He  hasn't  secretly  put  you  up  to 
it,  has  he?  Why,  Card,  if  this  were  published  it 
would  rip  up  the  state." 

"  I  know  it,  and  that's  why  it's  going  to  be 
done,"  explained  Card,  rather  loftily.  "  I  know 
exactly  what  I'm  up  to,  and  it's  what  I  want. 
Your  story  in  The  Pundit  will  start  Governor 
Ransom  to  his  feet  as  if  a  bunch  of  fire-crackers 
were  being  set  off  under  him.  It  will  about  do  up 
Corlis.  In  fact,  all  that's  wanted  to  make  things 
interesting's  a  bombshell,  and  I  guess  this  thing 
is  it." 


22 


335 


The  Mills  of  Man 

Ruggles  had  some  vague  notion  of  how  he 
would  like  to  allow  himself  to  be  carried  off  his 
feet.  The  animation  of  her  face,  the  blue  fire  of 
her  eyes,  were  beautiful.  But  it  was  his  habit  to 
split  hairs,  to  weigh  nicely  both  intellectual  and 
moral  grains. 

"  But  Card,"  he  dissented,  "  the  question  is  not 
what  splendid  effect  it  would  produce,  but  whether 
you  have  the  right  to  produce  it." 

"  Most  grave  and  reverend  seignior,"  mocked 
Card. 

Perforce  he  smiled,  but  persisted. 

"That's  it,  nevertheless;  you  can't  get  round 
it.  It  looks  so  queer.  Has  McBride  authorized 
you  to  spring  this  ?  " 

She  was  upon  her  restless  feet. 

"  What  business  is  that  of  yours,  Chris?  "  she 
blazed.  "  I  give  you  a  chance  to  make  a  stupen 
dous  scoop  and  you  balk,  you  introduce  your  con 
founded  scruples." 

"  Oh,  you  know  better,  Card,"  he  interposed. 
"  I  only  want  you  should  see  clearly  what  you  pro 
pose  to  do.  I  couldn't  let  you  do  for  me,  on  my 
account,  what — " 

"  It's  not  on  your  account,  you  goose."  She 
stamped  a  foot.  "  You're  such  a  prig,  Chris  Rug 
gles.  Besides,  it  is  not  your  business  what  I  do— 
you're  not  the  keeper  of  my  conscience." 

336 


The   Mills   of  Man 

"  Card,"  he  exclaimed,  reproachfully,  and  gave 
her  a  look. 

It  shook  her,  but  not  from  her  purpose. 

'This  isn't  sentiment,  it's  business;  so  you'll 
please  cut  the  former  out,"  she  announced.  "  You 
are  given  the  opportunity,  it's  up  to  you.  Don't 
go  behind  the  returns !  So  will  you,  or  won't  you 
— that's  the  question?  " 

"But  why  do  you  want  to  do  it?"  Ruggles 
strove.  '  The  McBrides  are  your  best  friends, 
and,  whatever  the  Boss  may  be,  he  is  straight  with 
you." 

"  It's  a  case  where  my  public  duty  overrides  my 
private  obligations,"  jeered  Card. 

He  looked  up,  expecting  to  behold  the  evil  in 
her  face;  instead  he  saw  but  intelligence,  naked  as 
a  blade. 

"  I'll  tell  you,"  suddenly  she  cried,  answering 
his  look.  "  Do  you  see  that  campaign  poster? 
You  see  the  picture,  that  cold-eyed  devil !  Well,  I 
hate  him,  and  I  hate  him !  And  he  will  be  gov 
ernor  unless  he's  stopped.  And  if  he  isn't  stopped 
right  now,  he  may  be  anything,  senator,  president, 
the  top  of  all.  And  7  can  stop  him;  I  have  the 
power;  it's  in  these  papers.  Do  you  suppose  I 
hesitate,  because  it  may  prevent  McBride  from 
stealing  another  million  ?  Well,  not  much  !  Mc 
Bride  don't  need  tender  treatment,  he  can  take 

337 


The   Mills   of  Man 

care  of  himself.    But  that  man  there,  I'll  stop  him 
at  any  cost!     He  never  shall  be  governor!  " 

Card  towered  over  Chris  like  some  tall,  golden 
shield-maiden.  The  hesitater  felt  her  ascendency 
and  admired — admired  her  audacity,  her  unscru- 
pulousness — and  the  Hamlet  soul  of  him  averred 
that  to  be  able  so  to  act  without  feeling  the  op 
pression  of  responsibility,  but  with  the  whole  na 
ture  bearing  upon  one  point,  was  life  itself,  was 
individuality. 

Yet,  according  to  his  nature,  he  demurred. 

"  I  don't  half  like  it,  Card.  I  know  this  scheme 
is  one  of  fraud  and  plunder;  but  it's  Jesuitical  to 
suppose  the  fact  would  justify  us.  The  best  way, 
I'm  sure,  is  to  leave  evil-doers  to  come  to  their 
own  end;  the  punishment  will  fall,  sooner  or 
later." 

"  Later,  generally,'-'  said  Card.  She  laughed 
out:  "Oh,  you  are  so  droll,  so  old-fashioned, 
Chris !  "  Her  mirth  did  not  exclude  a  tenderness, 
akin  to  a  maternal  condescension.  ''  Why,  don't 
you  know  that  nowadays  the  wicked  flourish  like 
green  bay  trees  ?  No,  no,  I  am  not  going  to  entice 
you  to  do  evil,  Chris !  I'll  do  it  all  by  my  lone 
some.  /'//  take  these  to  MacPherson — it  will  be 
my  own  proper  '  scoop.'  '  She  sighed. 

"  Oh,  Chris,  if  only  there  weren't  any  wolves, 
then  we  could  all  of  us  be  sheep.  I  wonder,  some 
times,  that  the  good  Lord  didn't  think  of  it,  when 
he  was  making  up  His  world." 

333 


XXXVII 

COLLISION  OF  WILLS 

RUGGLES    had    hardly    gone    when  he    ap 
peared  again  in  Card's  private  office. 

She  did  not. look  up  from  her  work;   but 
her  brows  wrinkled  humorously. 

"What,  more  scruples,  Chris?" 

"  Yes,  Gard,  I  forgot — there's  Mis.  Corlis." 

Gard  frowned. 

"  What  of  her?  "  she  asked  sharply.  "  Where 
does  she  come  in,  I'd  like  to  know  ?  " 

;'  Why,  it  affects  her,"  he  explained,  a  bit  meek 
ly.  "  He's  her  husband,  you  know." 

"  Well,  she'll  just  have  to  stand  the  conse 
quences  of  being  his  wife,  then,  I  guess."  Gard 
settled  decisively  into  her  chair. 

"  But,  don't  you  see,  Gard,"  Chris  persisted, 
"  not  only  is  Mr.  Corlis  involved,  but  Senator 
Dawes  is  also.  And  I  know  her  whole  heart  is  set 
upon  her  father's  reelection." 

"  I  can't  help  that,"  snapped  Gard  viciously. 
"  It's  not  my  fault  that  she's  mixed  up  in  a  bad 
crowd."  She  bent  resolutely  to  her  desk.  A  mo 
ment  later  she  consented  to  explain :  "  Mrs.  Cor 
lis  will  have  to  stand  it,  that's  all — as  I've  had  to 
stand  things,  or  any  other  poor  person." 

339 


The  Mills  of  Man 

"  But,"  excepted  Ruggles,  after  a  pause,  "  you 
don't  see  what  I  mean." 

Card  swung  in  her  chair  and  confronted  him. 

"  What  exactly,  Chris,  do  you  mean?  " 

"  Well,  you  see,"  he  began,  fumbling  his  hat, 
"  she  is  my  friend,  she  has  been  kind  to  me — her 
father  helped  me  once  when  I  was  a  young  fel 
low — and  I  don't  like  to  sit  by  and  see  them  in 
jured." 

'Tis  hard  on  them,"  jeered  Card,  lines  of 
scorn  around  her  mouth.  "  Of  course,  it  don't 
count  that  she  happens  to  be  the  rich  and  fashion 
able  Mrs.  Corlis — that  isn't  what  excites  your  so 
licitude  for  her  extremely  delicate  sensibilities  at 
all,  oh  no!" 

Chris  catechised  his  motives  rigorously. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  confessed;  "  I  hope  not, 
and  I  don't  believe  it  does.  Probably  you'll  be 
surprised,  when  I  say  I  think  it  is  nearer  compas 
sion  than  anything  else  in  me.  Somehow,  I  hate 
to  have  her  hurt,  and  this  will  hurt  her  terribly. 
She  is  unhappy,  Card;  I  suspect  she's  been  un 
happy  most  of  her  life,  and  I'm  sorry  for  her." 

i4  Mrs.  Corlis!  You  pity  her?  "  echoed  Card, 
incredulously.  The  notion  seemed  incomprehensi 
ble. 

"  Yes,  I  do."  He  bore  her  inquisition  stead 
fastly.  "  I  never  pitied  any  one  more." 

She  flushed  fiercely. 

340 


The   Mills   of  Man 

"  Why  don't  you  pity  me,  if  you've  got  any 
pitying  to  do?  " 

"  Oh,  Card,  I'd  kneel  to  you,"  he  said,  rever 
ently,  impelled  by  almost  a  sense  of  guilt  to  make 
her  what  poor  amends  he  could. 

She  quivered  as  if  the  words  had  been  a  slap 
across  the  cheek. 

"  If  I'd  whine,  I  suppose  you'd  pity  me  too,'' 
she  cried  in  a  hot  shame.  Then  as  if  in  a  wish  to 
prevent  his  answer  and  to  suppress  what  she  her 
self  had  said,  she  resumed  in  haste,  "  All  the 
same,  I  can't  understand  why  you  should  waste 
silly  sentiment  on  her.  She's  had  everything  to 
repletion  ever  since  she  could  breathe.  I'm  sure  I 
wouldn't  set  out  deliberately  for  the  purpose  of 
stepping  on  her  aristocratic  toes,  but  I'm  free  to 
say  that  if  incidentally  they  happen  to  get  bruised, 
it  may  do  her  good.  Even  Mrs.  Corlis  may  find 
out  there  are  some  things  she  can't  have." 

Ruggles  felt  the  force  of  what  she  said;  but,  as 
so  often,  what  he  considered  a  plain  duty  gripped 
him. 

"  But,  Card,"  he  urged. 

"  But  what?  "  she  demanded.  "  What  did  you 
come  back  here  to  tell  me?  There's  something 
more — out  with  it !  " 

"  I  believe  I  ought — I  ought  to  let  her  know," 
said  Chris,  with  difficulty.  "  She's  my  friend  and 
I  promised  to  help  her  in  any  little  thing  I  could 

34i 


The  Mills  of  Man 

this  campaign.  So  I  am  convinced  I  ought  to  tell 
her  beforehand  what  you  mean  to  do — if  you  still 
mean  to." 

Card  fell  back  hopelessly  into  her  chair,  her 
thin  nostrils  dilating. 

"  But  where,  Chris,  if  you  have  any,  does  your 
obligation  to  me  come  in,  if  you  please?  " 

The  moralist  did  not  flinch. 
'  You  are  bent  on  what  I  cannot  approve  of, 
Card." 

She  flushed  again  hotly  and  struck  her  fist  on 
the  desk  by  her  side. 

"  Let  me  tell  you  one  thing,  for  good,  right 
now.  You  can't  stop  me,  Chris;  no  power  exists 
that  can  stop  me.  Just  regard  that  as  certain." 

He  made  no  immediate  reply,  but  sat  and 
thought. 

Card  watched  the  changes  of  his  face. 

"  Oh,"  she  cried,  "  let's  quit  quarreling. 
What's  a  mere  trifle,  like  a  great  difference  of 
opinion,  between  friends  anyhow?"  she  laughed. 

Ruggles  rose  to  go. 

"  I'm  glad  you  see  it  that  way,"  he  said,  rather 
dolefully. 

'  You  don't  imagine  there's  any  other  way  I 
could  see  it,  do  you?  "  she  rejoined  heartily.  "  Go 
and  tell  your  Mrs.  Corlis,  if  you're  going  to.  It 
can't  do  any  harm,  it  won't  alter  facts,  and  she'll 

342 


The   Mills   of  Man 

learn  about  it  just  a  day  sooner  than  the  public, 
that's  all." 

Nevertheless,  her  cheerfulness  subsided  the  mo 
ment  he  was  gone.  She  sighed. 

'  This  separates  us  more  than  ever,"  she  reflect 
ed.  "  I  knew  it  ahead;  I  was  sure  when  I  first 
laid  eyes  on  that  swell.  Her  influence  with  him, 
though  she  doesn't  mean  it,  is  sure  death  to  mine." 

The  following  morning  Card  stood  in  the  outer 
office,  delivering  instructions  to  one  of  her  clerks. 
It  was  about  eleven  o'clock.  The  door  opened  to 
admit  a  woman  whose  mere  aspect  sufficed  to  fix 
the  whole  working  force  in  a  stare. 

The  lady  was  plainly  dressed,  yet  her  appear 
ance  on  that  business  scene  seemed  as  instantly  in 
congruous  as  the  sudden  advent  had  been  of  an 
old-time  French  marquise.  Every  one  knew  who 
she  was,  or,  if  they  did  not  know,  felt  it.  No  one 
in  Chicago  had  that  air,  save  one  woman,  Mrs. 
W.  H.  D.  Corlis. 

The  visitor  advanced  to  Card. 

"You  are  Miss  Brown?" 

The  simplicity  of  the  recognition  was  complete. 

"  Please  walk  into  my  office,  Mrs.  Corlis;  I'll 
follow." 

Card  stopped  to  say  one  word  more  to  the 
clerk. 

She  closed  the  door  behind  her  with  her  back 

343 


The   Mills   of  Man 

and  surreptitiously  turned  the  key;  she  might 
have  a  scene  on  her  hands,  for  all  she  knew. 

Mrs.  Corlis  stood  well  in  the  middle  of  the 
room,  and  turned  to  front  Card  as  the  door 
closed.  For  a  moment  she  critically  surveyed  the 
clear  and  edged  face  of  the  tall  young  woman. 
She  found  that  she  could  not  smile  easily  under 
that  regard,  which  seemed  to  ask,  tacitly  yet  in 
cisively,  what  her  business  might  be. 

4  Thank  you,  I  will  not  sit  down,"  she  began, 
with  a  shade  of  embarrassment — she  had  not  been 
asked  to  sit  down.  "  I  have  but  a  moment,  and  I 
fancy  you  must  know  for  what  I  have  come." 

"  I  guess  I  can  guess,"  said  Card,  with  the  com 
plete  dryness  only  possible  to  the  undiluted  Yan 
kee  stock. 

Mrs.  Corlis  shivered  just  perceptibly;  she  di 
vined  the  futility  of  her  errand  then  and  there. 

"  Mr.  Christopher  Ruggles,"  she  commenced 
anew,  but  found  her  auditor  too  contained  to  al 
low  her  to  proceed. 

"  I  understand,  Mrs.  Corlis,"  Card  volun 
teered.  "Now,  what  of  it?  " 

The  demand  was  implacable,  but  too  natural  to 
impart  offense. 

Experienced  Mrs.  Corlis  was  taken  aback. 

"  I — I  wished  to  beg  of  you,  Miss  Brown,  not 
to  do  it,"  she  murmured,  a  shade  confused. 

"  I'm  sorry  I  can't  oblige  you,"  replied  Card, 

344 


The   Mills   of  Man 

in  the  most  business-like  of  tones,  "  but  you  are 
just  a  little  too  late.  The  Pundit  has  had  the 
news  since  late  yesterday  afternoon,  and  The  Pun 
dit  never  disgorges." 

"  Then  you  cannot  recall  it — not  at  my  urgent 
request?"  gasped  the  visitor,  astonished,  but  not 
yet  quite  realizing  the  invalidity  of  her  preroga 
tive  in  the  present  premises. 

"  But  why  should  I — excuse  me,  Mrs.  Cor- 
lis?" 

The  gray  eyes  looked  a  cool  surprise. 

"  Indeed,  I  do  not  know  why  you  should,"  the 
older  woman  involuntarily  admitted.  "  Unless  " — 
she  endeavored  rather  unsuccessfully  to  assume  a 
persuasive  smile — "  unless  you  should  consent  to 
do  me,  personally,  a  favor  I  shall  never  forget. 
You  are  not,  of  course,  you  cannot  be  unaware  of 
what  damage,  what  irretrievable  damage,  the  pub 
lication  will  cause  us." 

4  That  is  just  the  reason  why  I  gave  the  thing 
away,"  the  inexplicable  young  woman  announced 
succinctly. 

"  But  what,  pray,  can  you  have  against  me?" 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Corlis  in  her  amazement.  "  Your 
object  is  not  to  ruin  us,  is  it?  " 

Card  answered  with  an  ironical,  and  to  her  vis 
itor  an  enigmatical  smile. 

"  Suppose  me  animated  by  an  abstract  love  of 
justice.  How  about  it  then?  " 

345 


The  Mills  of  Man 

Mrs.  Corlis  was  perplexed,  but  she  recovered. 

"Absurd!"  she  commented  mildly;  then 
smiled  her  skepticism.  '  We  women  never  are, 
Miss  Brown." 

"  Yet  maybe  I  have  a  sense  of  duty  toward  the 
people  of  the  state,"  Card  countered. 

"  You  have  not,  Miss  Brown — at  least,  not  in 
this  case."  The  dark  eyes  held  an  amused  chal 
lenge. 

Card  in  a  moment  fiercely  answered  it. 

"  No,  I  have  not;   you  are  right,  Mrs.  Corlis." 

Some  fine  speculation  in  the  visitor's  scrutiny  re 
sulted  from  this  declaration.  She  became  con 
ciliatory. 

"  It  is  not  I  whom  you  are  hostile  to.  What  is 
it  then?  Perhaps  I  have  been  your  friend  more 
than  you  quite  understand.  I've  praised  you,  I've 
forwarded  your  interests,  I'm  sure." 

"Who  asked  your  help,  I'd  like  to  know?" 
Card  blazed  in  a  royal,  white  fury,  divining  in 
what  quarter  aid  had  been  lent.  "  Who  wanted 
good  words  from  you?  " 

"  I'm  sorry;  I  did  not  mean  to  presume,"  Mrs. 
Corlis  returned,  the  sincere  heart  of  her  sympa 
thizing  despite  the  insult  of  the  outburst.  '  You 
see,  I  could  not  help  admiring  you,  and,  I  don't 
know  why,  but  I  have  been  sorry  for  you  besides." 

Card  raged  like  a  Saint  Michael  militant,  her 
wrath  a  glory. 

346 


The   Mills  of  Man 

"  See  here,  Mrs.  Corlis,  since  you  want  to 
know,  I'll  tell  you  why  I  sent  it — the  thing — to 
The  Pundit — why  I  have  killed  your  husband's 
political  future  with  a  blow.  /  hate  him!" 

"Hate  him?    You?" 

"II" 

The  masks  which  every  face  accumulates, 
burned  suddenly  transparent  in  this  intensity,  and 
dark  eyes  and  gray  eyes  probed  deeply  into  the 
knowledges  that  each  confessed.  For  a  furious  sec 
ond  no  reticence  existed  between  those  two  souls, 
the  defiant  one  scorning  to  withhold  what  the  fore 
boding  other  had  divined. 

Mrs.  Corlis  stepped  back,  half  lifting  an  arm. 
Her  lips  parted,  her  face  grew  strained. 

"  Oh,"  she  moaned,  and  shut  the  horror  from 
her  sight.  "  I  am  a  little  dizzy,  I  think,"  she  said. 
"  Let  me  sit  down." 

Card  set  the  chair  and  Mrs.  Corlis  sank  upon 
it.  She  looked  crushed,  but  she  did  not  give  way. 
She  asked  faintly  for  a  glass  of  water. 

Card  brought  it  and,  while  Mrs.  Corlis  drank, 
assured  herself  there  was  to  be  no  scene.  The 
assurance  allowed  her  to  relent. 

Relent?  In  truth,  her  compassion  overflowed. 
As  she  looked  down  on  the  broken  woman  and 
witnessed  her  fortitude,  Card  understood  why 
Chris  had  pitied  her;  she  forgot  that  Mrs.  Corlis 

347 


The   Mills   of  Man 

was  a  "  swell,"  and  saw  only  the  wasted  face,  the 
strengthless  figure,  the  poor,  quivering  hands. 

'  You  must  have  hated  me  from  the  first,"  said 
Mrs.  Corlis  with  a  half  smile,  when  presently  she 
relifted  her  eyes.  "  Funny;  I  thought  it  some 
absurd  jealousy  on  poor,  dear  Chris'  account." 

"  Never  mind  that,"  bade  Card.  "  I  was  mean 
to  try  to  hurt  you — I  didn't  know  I  could  be  so 
mean." 

Mrs.  Corlis  saw  the  gulp  in  Card's  throat  and 
the  relaxing  of  the  face. 

"  Ah,  if  you  can  be  hard  on  others,  you  can  be 
harder  on  yourself.  Why  should  I  blame  you? 
You  very  strong  people  suffer  so  terribly;  so  per 
haps  it's  right  I  should — a  little — in  my  turn." 

"  That's  what  I  used  to  wish,"  said  Card,  "  but 
I  don't  now." 

"  I  do  not  blame  you;  it  was  natural."  Mrs. 
Corlis  reached  shyly  to  touch  Card's  hand.  '  You 
will  let  me  call  you  Card?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  will,"  said  Card  vehemently. 

"  It  is  the  right  name  for  you,"  mused  Mrs. 
Corlis;  "  it  expresses  you." 

"  But  what  makes  you  so  sweet  to  me?  "  Card 
suddenly  demanded,  "  when  I  have  been  so 
bitter?" 

Her  unspoken  question  was:  How  can  you 
bring  yourself  to  tolerate  me,  when  you  have 
learned  what  shame  I  have  been  through? 

348 


The   Mills  of  Man 

Mrs.  Corlis  looked  comprehension. 

"Ah,  why  should  I  not  be  kind?"  she  asked. 
"  What  else  is  left  for  me  to  be?  " 

An  ineffable  compunction  made  beautiful  the 
face  she  had  upturned  to  Card. 

Next  moment  she  was  gathering  her  skirts  with 
an  elaborate  hand,  preparing  to  rise. 

"  I  must  hasten;  I've  a  number  of  things  to 
do,"  she  mentioned  inconsequentially. 

As  she  gained  her  feet  by  aid  of  Card's  arm, 
she  was  again  altogether  the  great  lady.  She 
moved  to  the  door,  which  she  tried  and  then  un 
locked.  Before  opening  it  she  half  turned. 

"  Good-by,  Card,"  she  said  quite  softly,  a  look 
more  of  admiration  than  anything  else  in  her  dark 
eyes.  "  Good-by,"  she  repeated.  "  You've  stood 
the  test,  Card — while  I  " — her  voice  broke  a 
trifle,  "  I've  not  only  been  deceived;  I've  failed. 
And  there's  no  time  left  me  to  repair  what  I  would 
like." 

Card  sprang  forward  with  impulsive  sympathy, 
but  Mrs.  Corlis  had  closed  the  door. 


349 


XXXVIII 

MACPHERSON 

I  LIKE  this,   McBride,"  said  Mr.   Corlis  half 
amused,  half  displeased.     "  Here  is  a  letter 
from  MacPherson  of  The  Pundit.   Wants  to 
see  me,  and  will  I  call  at  his  office  this  afternoon, 
at  the  latest.     These  editors  dispose  of  us  as  if  we 
were  puppets  to  be  moved  at  their  pleasure;    the 
world  performs,  in  their  opinion,  in  order  to  sup 
ply  them  '  copy.'     Why  shouldn't  he  come  after 
me,  is  what  I  want  to  know?     Am  I  at  his  beck 
and  call?" 

"  Humph,  if  I  was  you,  I'd  drop  'round,"  the 
Boss  advised.  '  You  can  just  as  well;  it  won't  be 
much  trouble.  Them  editors  ain't  to  be  monkeyed 
with  durin'  campaigns." 

Mr.  Corlis  showed  some  irritation. 
'  This  business  of  being  a  candidate,  McBride, 
resolves   itself    into    becoming   every  one's    ser 
vant." 

"Well,  what  d'ye  want?"  muttered  the  Boss. 
'  Thinkin'  you're  goin'  to  have  the  governorship 
served  up  to  you  on  a  silver  platter,  was  you? 
You'd  better  make  it  your  bizness.  I'm  tellin' 
you,  to  see  MacPherson  and  be  mighty  smooth  to 
him." 

350 


The   Mills  of  Man 

The  candidate  hardly  relished  McBride's  tone, 
which,  if  new,  was  becoming  frequent.  He  com 
pressed  his  lips,  however,  and  made  no  reply. 

The  Boss  gave  more  advice. 

"  Mac  must  be  up  to  something;  he  wouldn't 
have  sent  for  you,  if  he  wasn't.  Don't  judge  him 
by  his  looks,  Corlis,  if  he  does  look  like  a  singed 
cat.  He  looks  easy,  Mac  does;  but  of  the  whole 
force  of  them  pen-drivin'  fellers,  he  is  the  feller 
most  onto  his  job." 

Mr.  Corlis  mounted  the  two  flights  of  narrow 
wooden  stairs  that  afforded  ingress  to  the  cramped 
editorial  rooms  in  the  dumpy,  red-brick,  old  build 
ing,  whence  issued  the  Chicago  Pundit,  daily,  to 
be  read  by  thousands  upon  thousands  throughout 
all  the  Central  West. 

Having  thus  gained  the  third  and  topmost 
story,  the  candidate  discovered  through  a  wide- 
open  door,  two  bare  rooms,  carpetless,  and  pos 
sessed  generally  of  the  aspect  of  an  attic.  Hard- 
seated  wooden  chairs  in  the  first  room  indicated 
its  use  as  a  waiting  room.  Beyond,  in  the  farther 
room,  the  doorway  appeared  blocked  by  a  flat, 
scarred,  unvarnished  desk  or  table,  whose  top  was 
heaped  with  newspapers.  Closer  inspection  had 
revealed  the  floor  of  the  room  also  littered  and 
strewn  with  newspapers,  whose  big,  black  titles 
spelt  the  names  of  great  cities,  little  cities,  villages, 


23 


The  Mills  of  Man 

and  counties  in  all  quarters  of  the  United  States, 
seemingly. 

Behind  the  table,  facing  the  door,  without  so 
much,  apparently,  as  the  buffer  of  an  office-boy 
between  him  and  the  public,  was  perched  upon  a 
high  stool  the  controlling  spirit  of  the  institution 
— a  little,  weazened,  shrunken,  bald  old  man,  who 
clutched  a  newspaper  in  his  small,  claw-like  hand. 
The  shriveled  face,  in  which  the  small  veins  spread 
a  faint  violet  network,  reminded  Corlis  of  a  frozen 
apple  on  a  leafless  tree.  Through  spectacles  that 
bestrode  his  nose  just  above  its  terminating  bulge, 
the  spinsterly  old  man  followed  down  the  printed 
columns,  reading  newspapers  the  livelong  day. 
Reading  newspapers  was,  indeed,  his  occupation; 
he  read  any  newspaper,  read  them  all — New  York 
organs,  Podunk  weeklies,  Kansas  agricultural 
sheets — any  constituted  grist  for  grinding  in  his 
intellectual  mill.  He  read  haphazardly,  as  he 
picked  them  up,  and  his  brain  cast  into  order  what 
his  eyes  took  in  without  beginning  and  without 
end.  At  home,  evenings,  in  his  bachelor  apart 
ments,  he  corrected  his  vision  by  the  perusal  of  the 
French  classics,  sipping  many  tumblers  of  hot 
whisky  and  water  the  while. 

The  representative  of  millions  of  money,  who 
was  Republican  candidate  for  governor,  stopped 
in  the  first  room  in  the  expectation  that  the  editor 

352 


The  Mills  of  Man 

would  take  notice  of  him.  But  the  editor  re 
mained  oblivious. 

"  Is  the  old  cock  deaf?"  thought  Mr.  Corlis, 
and  advanced  noisily  across  the  threshold  of  the 
sanctum  sanctorum  itself. 

MacPherson  wrinkled  his  eyes  over  the  print, 
but  did  not  stir,  though  the  invader  touched  and 
jarred  the  table  with  his  body. 

Mr.  Corlis  felt  his  gorge  rising;  one  of  his 
power  was  accustomed  to  obeisances,  and  irritably 
noticed  their  absence. 

"  Ahem,"  he  cleared  his  throat.  "  I  am  Mr. 
Corlis." 

He  expected  at  least  to  see  the  editor  give  a 
start.  But  the  editor  did  not  so  much  as  lift  his 
eyes;  he  smiled  serenely  at  the  newspaper  pages, 
saying  abstractedly, 

"  Ah,  sit  down,  sit  down.  Find  yourself  a  seat 
— don't  mind  the  papers;  sit  on  'em." 

"  I'll  stand,"  said  Mr.  Corlis  haughtily. 

The  editorial  eyelids  lifted  instantly,  and  the 
little  diamond-pointed  eyes  caused  Mr.  Corlis  to 
turn  away  his  own  cold  orbs. 

"  Pray,  Mr.  Corlis,"  lisped  the  old  man,  signifi 
cantly,  "  find  a  chair  and  draw  close  to  me.  I'm 
an  aged  gentleman  with  infirmities — a  touch  of  the 
gout — and  you'll  agree  with  me,  before  I  get 
through,  that  what  you  have  to  hear  can  be  whis 
pered  none  too  privily." 

353 


The   Mills   of  Man 

Mr.  Corlis  acquiesced. 

"  A  candidate  is  a  public  servant,  Mr.  Mac- 
Pherson,"  he  smiled. 

"  Also  general  target,"  the  editor  amended 
drily. 

Mr.  Corlis  bowed  condescendingly.  He  never 
felt  at  ease  or  was  properly  gracious  unless  his 
superiority  was  admitted.  Its  recognition  he  had 
been  sparring  for  since  his  entrance  upon  Mac- 
Pherson. 

The  editor  spoke  impersonally. 

"  In  the  course  of  a  campaign,  Mr.  Corlis,  I 
get  hold  of  all  sorts  of  charges  against  the  candi 
dates.  Most  of  them  go  into  the  waste-basket; 
but  here's  one  I  v/anted  to  have  you  say  some 
thing  about,  either  in  the  way  of  refutation  or 
confutation  or  whatever  you  choose." 

'  This  is  not  an  interview,  Mr.  Editor,  as  I 
understand  it?"  inquired  Mr.  Corlis,  with  resent 
ful  caution. 

"  Certainly  not;  anything  you  may  remark  will 
not  go  beyond  this  room.  Please  to  glance  at 
these." 

The  editor  handed  his  visitor  some  proofs,  and 
while  the  latter  read,  he  watched,  as  if  he  were 
more  concerned  to  read  what  Mr.  Corlis'  face  be 
trayed  than  to  learn  what  Mr.  Corlis'  tongue 
would  declare. 

A  spasm,   just  perceptible,    flashed  across   the 

354 


The   Mills  of  Man 

features  of  the  candidate  before  the  countenance 
was  twisted  into  an  inscrutable  mask.  Pallor  re 
mained,  however,  and  it  spread.  He  returned  the 
proofs  with  the  cool  impertinence, 

"  Pardon  me,  if  this  is  not  an  interview,  is  it 
blackmail?" 

"  No  check,  however  large,  can  square  it,  if  that 
is  what  you  mean,  Mr.  Corlis,"  replied  MacPher- 
son,  quietly. 

"  How  did  you  get  it?  "  demanded  the  candi 
date. 

"  It  appears  in  to-morrow  morning's  Pundit" 
the  editor  announced. 

"  Then  why  did  you  pur  me  to  the  trouble  of 
calling  here?  "  The  visitor  looked  truculent. 

"  Curiosity,  only  vulgar  curiosity,  Mr.  Corlis, 
I  assure  you,"  the  old  man  sighed.  "  How  a  man 
of  your  superiority  would  take  it,  that's  what  I 
wanted  to  see." 

Mr.  Corlis  set  his  square  jaw;  he  governed 
himself,  or  was  it  the  practical  exigency  which 
governed  him?  There  was  a  definite  point  to  be 
secured. 

"  Mr.  MacPherson,  is  there  no  possible  way  I 
can  keep  that  out  of  The  Pundit?  " 

'  None  that  I  am  aware  of,  sir." 

"  What  if  I  show  you  it  is  untrue — wide  of  the 
mark?" 

355 


The   Mills   of  Man 

"  I've  seen  your  handwriting,  sir,  and  I  have 
other  proofs." 

'  The  publication  will  damage  my  candidacy." 

"  That  it  will,  sir." 

'  You  seem  to  have  me  palpably  on  the  hip, 
Mr.  Editor." 

The  admission  from  so  powerful  a  man  might 
flatter  a  salaried  editor. 

"  I  have,  Mr.  Corlis." 

The  editor  was  cool,  perhaps  contemptuous. 

"  Permit  me  a  question,  Mr.  MacPherson. 
Have  you  any  personal  animus  against  me?  " 

"  Personalities  do  not  affect  The  Pundit,  sir. 
That  constitutes  one  reason  why  we  are  a  power. 
The  Pundit  publishes  the  truth  without  fear  or 
favor — all  the  truth  it  can  lay  hands  on,  that  it 
can  find,  beg,  steal  or  borrow.  We  do  not  lie, 
either  by  omission  or  commission;  it's  the  only 
virtue  upon  which  we  pride  ourselves." 

Mr.  Corlis  showed  impatience  under  this  eluci 
dation;  abstract  principles  always  bored  him. 

"  Then  there  is  no  hope  of  our  coming  to 
terms?  "  he  concluded. 

"  None,  sir.  Nothing  short  of  fire  and  flood 
can  keep  the  story  out  of  to-morrow's  edition." 

Mr.  Corlis  looked  the  editor  in  the  eye.  No 
flash  illumined  his  own  pale  eyes  nor  was  his  voice 
raised  by  half  a  tone;  but  the  great  veins  in  the 

356 


The  Mills  of  Man 

full  neck  swelled,  and  a  brutal  strength  coarsened 
the  handsome  face. 

"You  infernal  old  gutter-wallower !  You 
damned  scandal-monger!  " 

MacPherson  chuckled;  dared  chuckle  in  the 
teeth  of  the  magnificence  of  that  wrath. 

'  The  truth  is  not  over-savory,  I  admit,"  he 
squeaked,  and  rubbed  his  little  hands,  "  and  it 
does  soil  one,  some,  to  drag  respectable  corrup 
tion  into  the  light  of  day."  He  smiled  his  glee. 
"  I  guess  that'll  hold  you  for  a  moment,  won't  it, 
Mr.  Corlis?" 

The  candidate  was  livid;  but  still  he  kept  his 
eye  steady  and  his  voice  low. 

"  No  decent  man  would  speak  to  you  on  the 
street,  if  he  weren't  afraid  of  your  rotten  yellow 
sheet." 

"  Just  so,"  smiled  the  editor,  with  the  primness 
of  a  New  England  old  maid.  '  Just  so,  so  save 
your  breath.  I'm  not  respectable,  never  was, 
never  will  be,  wouldn't  if  I  could.  If  there's  one 
thing  I  despise,  next  to  a  fool,  it's  respectability." 

"  Publish  and  be  damned,"  growled  Corlis. 
"  I'll  see  that  the  banks  put  the  screws  on  you. 
People  all  know  what  The  Pundit  is — they  never 
believe  what  it  says;  it's  a  libelous,  blackmailing 
institution." 

MacPherson  had  risen  on  the  rounds  of  his 

357 


The   Mills  of  Man 

stool;   his  rage  was  grotesque.     He  shook  his  tiny 
fist  in  his  visitor's  face  and  shrilled, 

"  Damn  you,  you  lie,  sir,  you  lie !  Call  me  any 
thing  you  please — I'm  an  old  duck,  I'm  used  to 
it.  Say  The  Pundit's  sensational,  that  it's  stupid; 
but,  sir,  I'll  let  you  know,  sir,  and  know  it  al 
mighty  well,  The  Pundit  never  lies.  You  lie, 
when  you  say  so,  sir;  you  lie  in  your  throat!  " 
He  glared  at  Corlis  before  he  let  himself  down 
upon  his  seat  again. 

Then  he  continued,  still  wrathfully,  but  with  the 
satisfaction  one  derives  from  a  favorite  theme, 

'  The  Pundit  is  no  better  than  the  world  it  mir 
rors;  we  do  not  tolerate  any  idealizing  around 
here,  sir.  But,  by  God,  we  are  the  one  thing  in 
this  selfish,  rotten,  robberous,  cheating,  lustful, 
honor-prostituting,  devilishly  human  city,  that 
doesn't  lie.  Mebbe  society  can't  be  saved — I 
don't  care  much  if  it  isn't.  It  ain't  worth  it.  But 
if  truth's  salvation,  you  can  buy  salvation  in  The 
Pundit  every  morning  for  a  cent  and  on  a  Sunday 
for  a  nickel." 

Under  the  infliction  of  this  lecture  Mr.  Corlis 
had  had  time  to  calculate.  So  truth  was  the  old 
man's  foible — no  harm  to  try  to  humor  it. 

But  MacPherson  rounded  on  him  instantane 
ously. 

"You  flatter  me,  Mr.  Corlis?  You  say  you 
are  proud  to  meet  an  honest  man?  By  God, 

358 


The   Mills   of  Man 

you're  more  offensive  than  before.  No  one  but  a 
fool  ever  met  an  honest  man — I'm  not  honest;  I've 
got  my  price;  I'd  sell  my  soul  to  get  truth  for 
The  Pundit.  What,  you  think  you  can  smear  me 
over  with  your  flattery?"  The  diamond-pointed 
eyes  glittered  like  a  snake's.  "  In  other  words, 
you  insult  my  intelligence — that's  too  much,  sir. 
Wheedle  me?  Damn  you,  sir,  get  out  of  my  of 
fice  !  " 


359 


M 


XXXIX 

EXPOSURE 

R.  CORLIS  emerged  from  The  Pundit 
stairway  upon  the  street.  He  was  un 
ruffled;  he  possessed,  naturally,  the  self- 
control  of  the  gambler  and  was  wont  to  play  the 
chances  on  human  nature  and  on  the  turns  of  pas 
sion  as  he  did  on  the  futures  of  stocks.  Usually, 
however,  his  fortune  in  life  had  provided  him 
with  "  tips."  His  inner  equanimity,  therefore, 
under  the  present  unexpected  reverse,  hardly 
matched  his  outwardly  collected  mein. 

He  got  into  a  cab,  directing  it  to  McMahon's 
saloon  only  three  blocks  away  in  Clark  street. 
When  the  cab  stopped,  he  handed  the  "  cabby  "  a 
dollar  and  darted  into  the  saloon. 

He  nodded  good-naturedly  to  the  men  behind 
the  bar,  powers  in  politics  each  one.  The  Cer 
berus  on  guard  in  the  rear,  hearing  his  approach, 
looked  up  haughtily  from  the  paper  he  was  read 
ing,  but  when  he  saw  the  candidate  he  slid  off  his 
chair  in  a  wink  and  touched  his  round,  bald  pate. 
"  Your  honor!  "  he  gasped.  "  Recognized  your 
honor  by  the  pictures  of  your  honor." 

"Is  McBride  inside?"  asked  the  incisive  Cor- 
lis.  "Who's  with  him?" 

360 


The  Mills  of  Man 

"  Nobody,  your  honor.  Walk  right  in;  no  need 
to  announce  the  whole  thing — that  is,  your  honor." 

Cerberus  looked  to  see  if  his  humor  was  shared. 
It  was  not. 

"  Mighty  stuck  on  himself,"  mused  Cerberus, 
as  the  candidate  disappeared. 

McBride  started  up  when  he  saw  who  it  was — 
for  his  girth  the  Boss  was  nimble. 

"  What's  doin',  Corlis?  "  he  asked  keenly.  "  By 
God,  you  look  it." 

"  Should  think  I  should,  McBride.  Is  the  door 
shut?" 

Then  Corlis  broke  out  into  a  rage,  whose  man 
ner  was  characteristic  enough.  The  display  was 
terrific,  but  no  heat  accompanied  the  passion. 

McBride  endured  the  exhibition  phlegmatically. 

"  Quit  it,  Corlis,"  he  said  presently.  "  To  let 
loose  ain't  to  play  the  game.  You've  got  to  take 
your  medicine  in  politics  as  well  as  the  other 
feller." 

"  But  this  lets  the  bottom  out,"  declared  Corlis, 
grinding  his  strong  teeth. 

"  Sure,"  assented  the  Boss.  "  Did  you  think  I 
didn't  see  it?  " 

McBride  had  the  more  impervious  hide,  tanned 
by  long  exposure  before  it  had  ever  been  laved  in 
cologne. 

"  But  it  don't  make  no  difference,  Corlis;  you've 
got  to  play  the  hand  out.  When  you  held  fours, 

361 


The  Mills  of  Man 

you  played  'em  strong — that's  easy.  Now  you've 
got  only  ace  high,  it'll  take  nerve  to  play  'em  the 
same  way." 

"  I'm  not  weakening,"  growled  the  candidate. 
"  Let  me  swear.  But  this  fixes  us,  doesn't  it?  " 

"  Naw,"  disagreed  the  Boss,  "  not  till  election's 
come  and  gone.  I  never  give  up  till  after  I'm 
licked." 

'  That's  pure  Irish  braggadocio,  McBride." 

'  When  you've  finished  a  campaign  or  two, 
Corlis,  I'm  tellin'  you,  you'll  learn  never  to  lay 
down  till  the  last  day,  and  never  to  feel  sure, 
neither." 

"  But  what  are  we  to  do  after  The  Pundit  gets 
through  with  us?  " 

"  Do?  Lie !  It's  up  to  us,  ain't  it,  to  lie — to  lie 
for  all  that's  in  us.  A  lie  does  most  as  well  as  the 
truth,  anyway;  that's  my  experience.  It'll  be  a 
stand-off  between  The  Pundit  and  us  fellers,  and 
you  can  find  plenty  yaps  enough  to  take  stock  in 
any  old  thing,  if  you'll  only  say  it  loud.  The  Sen 
ator's  word  will  help  some,  too,  I  guess." 

'  You  don't  suppose,"  surmised  Corlis  pres 
ently,  "  that  MacPherson  would  have  the  impu 
dence  to  publish  what  I  said  to  him?  He  might 
have  had  a  stenographer  hidden  somewhere." 

"  Did  he  say  anything?  "  asked  McBride. 

"  He  said  I  wasn't  being  interviewed.  He 
might  have  said  it  to  throw  me  off  my  guard." 

362 


The  Mills  of  Man 

"  You're  safe,"  decided  the  Boss.  "  Mac's 
Scotch  and  a  damn  Protestant.  But  how  did  the 
old  man  get  on  to  us — you  say  he  had  all  the  Con 
solidated  plans  and  figgers?" 

"  I  did  my  best  to  convince  him  he  had  been 
imposed  upon,  but  it  wouldn't  work,"  explained 
Corlis  in  disgust. 

"  Hell!  "  ejaculated  the  Boss. 

"  Of  course,"  remarked  Corlis,  almost  casually, 
but  as  if  he  were  afforded  some  consolation,  "  we 
know  there  was  only  one  leak  possible,  McBride. 
MacPherson  must  have  been  supplied  from  '  The 
Obelisk.'  " 

"What  makes  you  think  so?"  snapped  Mc 
Bride,  swiaging  on  his  heels,  in  order  to  watch 
every  muscle  in  his  colleague's  face. 

"  There  can  be  no  other  possible  source  for  the 
information."  Corlis  smiled  a  bit  sarcastically. 
"  McBride,  you've  been  a  fool  to  trust  too  much 
to  that  young  woman  of  yours." 

"  I  don't  think  so,"  maintained  the  Boss,  ob 
stinately.  Although  their  interests  were  mutual, 
their  mutual  irritation  grew. 

"  You're  blind,  then,"  rejoined  Corlis.  "  It 
could  have  come  from  nowhere  but  out  of  that 
office.  I  have  it,  it  was  that  reporter — what's  his 
name? — Ruggles — he's  her  friend;  he  lies  around 
up  there  often.  She  will  put  it  on  him  anyhow, 
see  if  she  doesn't." 

363 


The  Mills  of  Man 

McBride  intentionally  curtailed  the  discussion. 

"  Humph !  No  use  nosin'  in  the  air,  Corlis — 
the  trouble's  done,  that's  what  we've  got  to  reckon 
with  and  not  who  done  the  trouble.  Keep  your 
self  cool,  while  I  fox  'round  a  day  or  so;  then 
we'll  fix  up  a  contradiction.  Time  enough." 

As  Corlis  went  out,  the  Boss  took  up  the  tele 
phone. 

"Hello,  that  you,  Card?  You  know  me,  I 
guess?  " 

"  Yes." 

'*  The  Pundit  to-morrow.     Is  that  so?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Something  personal  you  done  it  for?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Thought  so.  Well,  you  ain't  goin'  to  talk 
no  more,  are  you?  " 

"  No.  Nobody  will  learn  how  The  Pundit  got 
on." 

"  All  right,  Card.  You've  kicked  a  hole  big 
as  the  La  Salle  street  tunnel  through  our  job. 
Let  up  now  and  take  a  rest;  you've  done  it — you 
ought  to  be  satisfied.  And,  Card,  come  out  home 
and  see  Gretchen  to-night — I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

"  I'll  be  there." 

Card  dropped  the  telephone  in  her  own  office. 

"That  was  McBride,"  she  said  to  Ruggles; 
"  he  knows  it." 

"  How  does  he  take  it?  "  asked  the  reporter. 
364 


The  Mills  of  Man 

"  Oh,  easy;  same  as  I  do.    What's  the  use?  " 

Five  minutes  later  the  office-boy  announced  Mr. 
Corlis. 

"  Let  him  come  right  in,"  bade  Card. 

He  was  already  coming  in,  and  as  he  entered, 
Card  wheeled  her  revolving  chair  and  looked  up 
with  a  brave  smile.  Ruggles  took  up  his  hat. 

With  Mr.  Corlis  came  a  chill.  His  concen 
trated  rage  magnified  his  handsomeness.  His 
cold  eyes  swept  over  Card,  then  noticed  Ruggles 
for  a  moment;  the  reporter  felt  their  contempt 
even  to  his  bones. 

Mr.  Corlis  went  directly  to  the  issue. 

'  You  do  not  need  to  be  accused,  Miss  Brown; 
you  acknowledge  it.  No  doubt  you  are  proud  of 
selling  information  to  The  Pundit — of  having  it 
to  sell." 

Card  was  on  her  feet,  confronting  him  with  a 
face  turned  white,  but  resolute  as  rock;  she  had 
divined  his  purpose. 

"  Yes,  I  did  it;  I  gave  it  to  The  Pundit,  if  that's 
what  you  mean,"  she  said. 

"  From  what  motive  did  you  do  it,  if  not  for 
money?  "  he  challenged,  with  a  sneer.  "  No  one 
who  knows  your  high  character  would  attribute  a 
mercenary  motive  to  you." 

He  paused,  and  held  her  in  a  torture  of  sus 
pense. 

"  Perhaps,  out  of  my  knowledge,  I  may  be  able 

365 


The  Mills  of  Man 

to  suggest  a  motive — do  you  not  think  so?  "  He 
gloated.  "  Pray  do  not  go,  Mr.  Ruggles  " — he 
bowed  disdainfully — "  this  may  concern  you  much 
more  than  you  imagine." 

Card  had  grown  suddenly  majestic,  both  with 
the  pallor  and  the  dignity  of  marble. 

'  You  are  quite  right,  Mr.  Corlis,"  she  said, 
simply,  "  my  motive  was  revenge,  at  least  as  much 
of  it  as  you  are  capable  of  understanding.  And, 
let  me  add,  the  revenge  is  not  inadequate." 

That  high  demeanor,  that  acceptance  of  what 
he  had  designed  to  force  shamefully  upon  her, 
stirred  the  ruffian  in  the  gentleman.  His  was  a 
cool  and  quiet  savagery. 

"  Indeed,  Miss  Brown?  In  other  words,  in 
order  that  your  young  friend  here  may  fully  com 
prehend,  you  have  violated  your  commercial  honor 
in  order  to  avenge  your  personal  honor." 

Involuntarily  she  sent  an  agonizing  glance 
towards  Ruggles,  to  withdraw  it  instantly  as  if 
sight  of  his  presence  seared  her  eyes.  She  rocked 
as  she  stood  and  her  lids  closed,  but  she  was  too 
proud  to  shrink;  she  held  her  head  high  up  and 
took  the  blow. 

"  You  felt  you  had  evened  your  accounts  with 
me,"  Mr.  Corlis  sneered.  "  But  you  overlooked 
the  possibility  of  retaliation;  you  should  not  have 
made  it  so  apparent  that  you  were  growing  senti- 

366 


The  Mills  of  Man 

mental.  But  Mr.  Ruggles  will  hardly  find  you  all 
he  dreamed  since  now  he  knows." 

She  shuddered  painfully,  but  cried  out, 

"  I  knew  you  for  a  bad  man,  Mr.  Corlis;  but  I 
didn't  know  you  were  a  mean  one,  too." 

The  curious,  involuntary  contempt  in  the  re 
joinder  perhaps  stung  him. 

"  No  more  than  your  friend  here  that  you  were 
a  ruined  woman,"  he  hissed  out. 

A  crash.  Corlis  turned.  Ruggles  was  leaping 
for  his  throat.  He  had  time  to  step  back  a  foot 
or  two ;  but  Ruggles  had  grasped  the  collar  of  his 
coat. 

"You  infernal  blackguard!"  the  reporter 
roared. 

"  Chris,  let  him  go !  I  tell  you,  let  him  go !  " 
commanded  Card.  "  It's  my  own  sin  has  found 
me  out." 

"  Get  out  of  here,"  cried  Ruggles,  hoarsely,  his 
great  shoulders  heaving  with  the  mighty  wrath  of 
the  slow  man. 

Mr.  Corlis  retired  with  dignity. 

"  My  business  is  finished,  I  fan£y." 

At  the  door  he  half  turned : 

'  You  are  young,  Mr.  Ruggles,  but  you  may 
thank  me  for  this,  some  day." 


367 


XL 

THE  CHARITY  THAT  COVERS  SINS 

LITTLE  Mrs.  McBride  met  Card  in  the  dim 
hall,  where  the  smell  of  the  dinner  lingered. 
Gretchen  put  up  her  lips  to  be  kissed  and 
her  round  arms  to  encircle  the  neck  of  her  tall 
friend. 

"  I  told  Mike,  Card,"  purred  Gretchen,  sooth 
ingly,  "  I  told  him  why  you  did  it,  and  I  guess 
he  guessed  beforehand,  because  he  wasn't  much 
surprised.  And  you  needn't  be  afraid,  dear  Card; 
you  know  our  Mike's  a  good  friend  to  women. 
And  besides,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  he  ain't  really 
stuck  on  you,  because  you  had  your  nerve  with 
you — Mike  always  said  you  had  more  nerve  than 
any  man  he'd  ever  seen.  And  he  likes  a  friend  of 
his  to  be  a  good  hater — he's  such  a  good  one  him 
self." 

Gard  let  herself  go;  she,  who  like  a  strong 
man,  never  wept,  she  put  down  her  lofty  head  on 
Gretchen's  soft  shoulder  and  sobbed  in  deep,  dry 
sobs. 

She  had  hardly  flinched;  she  had  faced  shame 
itself,  if  not  victoriously,  nobly  at  least.  And  she 
had  come  to  the  McBrides'  to  bear  it  out,  to  ac- 

368 


The  Mills  of  Man 

cept,  if  not  open  reproaches,  then  understood  con 
demnation  for  her  betrayal  of  the  confidence  of 
her  patron.  Besides,  now  that  the  act  was  accom 
plished,  The  Pundit  told,  sharp  questionings  were 
devised  by  her  uneasiness,  and,  despite  her  reason 
ing,  the  grief  she  had  brought  on  Mrs.  Corlis  trou 
bled  her  conscience. 

But  in  the  place  of  upbraidings  she  was  met 
with  vindication;  in  the  house  of  the  publican  and 
his  wife,  a  former  sinner,  she  was  welcomed  with 
love.  They  understood  her  passions,  they  could 
feel  sympathy  for  her.  It  was  too  much.  Card 
sank  upon  her  knees,  her  arms  clinging  around 
Gretchen's  waist,  as,  in  the  homely  print,  the 
woman  cast  up  by  the  waves  clings  to  the  cross. 

In  the  basement,  downstairs,  the  Black  Boss  sat 
in  his  shirt  sleeves  next  the  dining-room  table, 
drinking  beer,  his  Celtic  susceptibilities  deadened 
by  the  cotton-wool  envelope  of  Teutonic  comfort. 
He  looked  at  the  two  women  when  they  entered, 
with  the  daze  of  his  ruminations  in  his  expression; 
but  when  it  reached  his  intelligence  who  it  was,  he 
got  cumbersomely  to  his  feet. 

Sobriety  of  sorrow  had  replaced  the  splendor 
of  defiance  in  Card's  bearing;  she  looked  more 
womanly  than  was  usual  with  her.  Yet  it  was 
hardly  the  repentant  Magdalen.  Even  in  her 
tragedy  Card  was  far  from  orthodox;  it  was  the 
grateful  human  creature. 

369 


The   Mills   of  Man 

McBride  not  only  got  upon  his  feet,  he  crossed 
the  room  to  greet  and  welcome  her.  He  bowed 
to  her  as  if  she  had  been  Mrs.  Corlis  or  a  queen; 
the  manipulation  of  his  bulk  might  have  been 
somewhat  ponderous,  but  the  intention  of  his  heart 
was  knightly. 

"  Mighty  glad  to  see  you  now,  Card,"  he  said, 
his  blue  eyes  beaming.  "  You're  the  closest  friend 
this  family's  got — ain't  she,  Gretchen?  I  want 
you  to  come  over  here  and  sit  down  and  have  a 
beer  with  me." 

Card  seated  herself  in  a  chair  alongside  the  big 
chair  of  the  Boss.  The  flaxen  hausfrau  fetched 
the  mugs  of  beer  and  then  perched  her  round  self 
on  an  arm  of  Card's  seat,  her  two  long  braids 
hanging  one  across  each  shoulder  and  down  her 
breast.  The  Boss,  black  and  burly,  blinked  benev 
olently,  thought  of  his  own  loss  furthest  from  his 
consciousness,  while  the  maternal  solicitude  of  his 
soft  Gretchen  for  her  independent  friend  brought 
a  tear  to  his  heart  and  a  smile  to  his  eye. 

"We  remember,  we  do,  don't  we,  Gretchen?" 
said  the  Boss.  "  Where'd  this  family  be,  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  Card,  I  want  to  know." 

Gretchen  kissed  Card's  neck. 

"  You  was  my  friend  before  Mike  was — when 
people  looked  sidewise  at. me  out  of  their  eye." 

"  And  we  don't  forget  it,  we  don't,  Gard." 

The  Boss  slapped  his  knee. 
3/0 


The   Mills  of  Man 

After  a  while  Card  resumed  something  of  her 
usual  flashing  manner;  it  was  her  habit  to  speak 
out. 

'  You  don't  seem  very  mad  about  it,  after  all," 
she  said,  rallying  McBride. 

;'  Whist!  it's  my  uncommon  good-nature," 
winked  the  Boss  in  reply.  Then  he  wagged  his 
big  head  dolorously. 

u  But  you  kilt  my  chance  of  becomin'  too  rich 
to  breathe." 

"  Pshaw,  you'd  rather  be  honest  than  rich,  Mc 
Bride,"  she  retorted.  "  All  men  would." 

"  Give  me  the  chance  to  choose  between,"  he 
chuckled;  "my  virtue  needs  tremendous  to  be 
tried." 

"  Oh,  no,  it's  above  suspicion,"  clamored  Card. 

"  How  it  just  does  take  you,  Card  dear,  to 
wake  Mike  up,"  commented  Gretchen  with  ap 
proval. 

"  All  the  same  you  oughtn't  to  'a  done  it, 
though  I  don't  blame  you  none,"  the  Boss  con 
cluded.  "  But  I  guess  you  near  squared  accounts, 
Gard,  if  anybody's  askin'." 

Again  the  Boss  could  not  repress  a  twinkle. 

"  Not  if  the  Republicans  are  still  going  to  win," 
excepted  Gard.  The  Boss's  equanimity  had  sud 
denly  alarmed  her  fears. 

He  grinned. 

371 


The   Mills  of  Man 

"Good!  You  don't  let  go,  do  you,  Card? 
What  a  first-class  fightin'  man  you'd  have  made." 

"  You  think  you  will  still  win?  "  pressed  Card. 
"  You'd  be  sorry  if  you  didn't?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  the  Boss  frankly. 
"  He's  stuck  on  his  destiny,  he  is.  I  can  see  that 
to  be  governor  of  Illinois  ain't  goin'  to  content 
him  none;  he's  figgerin'  away  ahead.  But  what 
I'm  figgerin'  is,  that  when  he  gets  to  be  governor 
once,  he'll  take  it  into  his  head  to  do  the  re- 
formin'  act;  it'd  be  a  grand-stand  play  that'd 
make  him  solid  with  the  Puritans,  for  him  to  turn 
his  back  on  me  and  the  organization  that  boosted 
him.  He's  just  the  feller  to  play  that  trick,  I've 
made  up  my  mind.  We  two  are  thick  as  mud  now; 
but  after  January  first  next  he  might  claim  my 
breath  inside  the  State  House  down  at  Spring 
field  'd  tarnish  the  pure  atmosphere.  He  might, 
there's  no  tellin'." 

"  I  see,"  said  Card,  in  her  old  manner;  "  you're 
a  stickler  still  for  that  one  principle  of  yours, 
honor  among  thieves." 

"  That  explains  why  I  ain't  as  mad  as  I  might 
be  at  what  you've  gone  and  done,"  resumed  the 
Boss.  "  If  Corlis  is  the  kind  of  cuss  to  kick  away 
the  ladder  he  climbed  up  by,  what  use  is  he  goin' 
to  be  to  me  in  my  business?  " 

Card  stayed  that  night  at  the  McBrides',  and 
Gretchen  slept  with  her.  Such  close  communion  it 

372 


The  Mills  of  Man 

was  which  drew  from  Card  the  story  of  how  Mr. 
Corlis  had  denounced  her  in  the  office  before 
Christopher  Ruggles. 

"He  is  so  hard,  so  hard,"  she  moaned.  "I 
read  it  all  in  his  face,  Gretchen.  His  sense  of 
purity  was  shocked.  He  demands  purity  in  us 
women,  purity  iirst  of  all,  and,  not  having  that,  we 
can  have  everything  else  fine  in  vain." 

Gretchen  wisely  urged  that  Gard  must  give 
him  time. 

"  He  will  come  back,  Gard,  never  fear." 

''  What  does  he  know  of  human  nature,  how  it 
is  a  blend  in  us  all?  "  demanded  Gard  in  sudden 
protest.  "  All  he  thinks  of  is  what  doesn't  exist, 
abstractions,  tricks  of  words  that  he  exalts  and 
would  like  to  die  for — Justice,  Truth,  Progress, 
Purity — and  such  vast  mouth fuls.  Oh,  some 
times  I  hate  him  for  it,  he  is  so  blind !  Warm 
human  love,  human  pity,  human  forgiveness,  hu 
man  comradeship,  the  toleration  that  makes  allow 
ances  and  the  faith  that's  loyal — oh,  he  is  poised 
and  studious;  he  never  once  suspects  that  such 
commonplaces  are  all  that  are  alive,  that  his  bleak 
ideals  are  just  inside  his  head." 

Gretchen  raised  herself  upon  an  elbow  to  lean 
and  kiss  Gard's  mouth. 

"  He'll  learn,  he'll  learn,  he'll  suffer  so,  he'll 
learn.  It  is  the  only  way  for  him,  Gard  dear,  and 
I'll  bet  he's  suffering  a  heap  right  now." 

373 


The   Mills  of  Man 

Card  had  to  laugh. 

"  You're  such  a  perfect  squirrel,  Gretchen." 

Gretchen  snuggled. 

"  Mike  says  I'm  a  little  fool.  It's  so,  too.  But 
little  fools  know  more  about  some  few  things  than 
smart  folks  do." 


374 


G 


XLI 

TWO  SCENES   FROM  THE  LIVES  OF  WOMEN 

RETCHEN  slept  and,  after  a  while,  Card 


slept  fitfully  also.  But  she  lay  long  awake, 
and,  as  she  lay,  she  thought  of  all  that  had 
happened  and  how  the  worth  of  a  test  is  that  it 
reveals  the  stuff  in  people.  But  what  Chris  had 
said  to  her  and  she  to  Chris  in  the  office  after  Mr. 
Corlis  had  gone  away  formed  the  persistent  burden 
of  her  mind. 

This  was  the  scene : 

Ruggles  had  stood,  breathing  deeply;  he  did 
not  look  at  Card.  She  had  gone  limp ;  her  limbs 
loosened,  her  face  wan,  her  eyes  like  those  of  a 
beaten  dog,  involuntarily  supplicatory. 

"  Chris,"  she  whispered  painfully.  "  Chris," 
she  repeated. 

He  gave  no  least  sign  of  hearing,  not  so  much 
as  by  the  twitching  of  a  muscle;  he  was  staring 
horribly  before  him.  She  would  have  touched  him 
in  appeal,  but  did  not  dare  drag  herself  nearer  him. 

"  Chris,"  she  agonized,  "  only  speak  to  me." 

He  would  not  look — he  was  not  conscious  of 
his  cruelty.  A  spasm  suddenly  convulsed  his  face. 

"  Tell  me,"  he  gasped,  "  tell  me  that  black 
guard  lied!  " 

375 


The   Mills   of  Man 

She  threw  back  her  head  with  unconscious, 
queenly  motion,  to  look  at  him,  to  study  him, 
while  he  hung  in  suspense.  The  truth  was  evi 
dent;  she  scorned  it,  even  while  it  tortured  her; 
jealousy  as  a  man  was  what  he  suffered. 

"  I  suppose  you'll  despise  me  when  I  answer 
that  he  didn't  lie,"  she  said,  contemptuously.  "  So 
like  a  man."  A  brave  smile  circled  her  quivering 
mouth. 

"  And  if  he  did  not,  if  he  spoke  the  truth,  does 
it  make  me  different?  I  am  the  same  I  was — be 
fore,  before  you  knew." 

She  could  not,  for  her  life,  restrain  the  sob  that 
choked  her  voice. 

He  turned  to  her,  but  he  did  not  lift  his  eyes. 

''  When  a  man  loves  a  woman — "  he  began 
tensely. 

"  Oh,  so  you  found  it  out,"  she  jeered,  in  reac 
tion  from  excess  of  pain.  "  It  took  a  wretched 
physical  jealousy  to  enlighten  you,  did  it?"  In  a 
deep  tone,  "  I  could  have  told  you  a  year  ago, 
dear  Chris." 

He  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  to  avoid  the 
imperious  yearning  of  her  eyes.  His  shoulders 
sank  miserably. 

The  lines  of  Card's  chin  came  out  distinct  and 
clear;  her  head  poised  itself  a  bit  defiantly.  She 
put  her  hands  behind  her  back  as  was  her  wont 

376 


The   Mills   of  Man 

when  she  could  not  keep  them  still.  She  began 
with  the  simplicity  of  a  child, 

"  Oh,  Chris,  what  of  it  all?  What  if  years  ago 
that  man  did  make  me  love  him,  till  I  found  him 
out?  It  was  so  hard  and  I  had  so  to  struggle! 
I  had  to  fight  despair  and  my  self-contempt  and  a 
bitter  world  outside.  And  all  the  time,  too,  I  had 
to  work  my  fingers  to  the  bone  to  keep  myself. 
Can  you  not  pity,  some,  the  girl  I  was,  and  make 
allowance,  Chris,  for  her  ignorance,  her  country- 
ness  and  what  she  didn't  know?  Surely  you  can 
pity  her,  at  least — perhaps  forgive  her  even — as  I 
do.  And  it  took  me  many  a  year  to  do  that, 
Chris." 

She  waited.     He  had  half  turned  his  back. 

She  stepped  nearer  to  him,  close,  and  when  she 
spoke,  a  new  tone  colored  her  speech,  a  tone  of 
suppressed  demand. 

"  Have  you,  then,  no  sins  in  your  own  lost 
youth,  that  you  must  be  so  hard?  Yet  it  is  dead, 
and  it  would  anger  you  to  be  tasked  now  for  what 
you  were  when  your  youth  was  alive.  I — I  am 
not  that  girl !  I  am  a  woman,  and  the  more  a 
woman,  abler  to  think  and  live  and  love,  because 
I've  suffered  and  struggled  and  succeeded,  even  as 
you  have,  Christopher  Ruggles.  What  did  you 
want  of  me,  what  would  you  have?  Just  an  im 
maculate  mistress,  a  prattling  child?" 

377 


The   Mills   of  Man 

"  Every  man,"  he  blundered  out,  "  keeps  an 
ideal.  It  hurts  to  have  it  violated." 

"  No  doubt,"  she  assented  drily.  Then  in  a 
quick  burst  came  the  storm.  Her  bosom  heaved, 
the  gray  eyes  flamed,  and  she  was  clothed  with 
majesty. 

;'  Ideal!  "  she  cried.  "  Yes,  the  ideal  his  own 
sultanic  vanity  conceived  for  him.  He  insists  a 
woman  must  keep  pure  for  him,  for  the  future 
and  for  him !  But  I  tell  you  now,  Chris  Ruggles, 
I  value  myself  higher,  yes  and  better  respect  my 
self  as  I  am  this  day,  than  if  I  were,  to  the  last 
pretty  ribbon,  what  your  man's  ideal  would  have 
me  be.  I  know  my  own  strength,  I've  tested  my 
courage,  I've  beaten  the  world  out,  and  I  have 
not  been  downed.  There  is  no  speculative  quality 
about  me.  I  can  look  you  squarely  in  the  eyes,  I 
can  say  honestly  I  am  the  better  woman  for  what 
I  have  passed  through,  and  you  have  no  real  right 
to  spurn  me." 

It  cost  Card  infinitely  to  say  these  things,  to 
stand  out  and  fiercely  vindicate  herself.  But  at  the 
crisis  a  sort  of  noble  rage  seized  her  that  burned 
up  any  feeble  sense  of  shame.  For  it  enraged  her 
to  feel  that  the  highest  in  her  was  arraigned,  where 
the  neutral  virtues  might  have  strutted  in  com 
placency. 

Chris  looked  up,  to  receive  the  effect  in  full  of 
her  surprising  splendor,  the  sudden  sublimation 

378 


The  Mills  of  Man 

into  grandeur  of  a  white  and  golden  woman.  He 
could  not  bear  the  glory,  so  looked  down.  But 
he  struck  at  it  slanderously  with  the  words, 

"If  you  had  it  all  to  live  again,  would  you,  in 
order  to  become  what  you  are  now — would  you  do 
again  as  you  have  done?  " 

It  turned  her  to  a  wounded,  gasping,  quivering 
thing — it  cut  the  pedestal  from  under  her. 

Maybe  he  did  not  perceive  what  was  his  cruel 
ty  ;  his  lids  were  very  heavy  with  his  own  woe. 

"  Let  me  go,"  he  entreated,  self-engrossed.  "  I 
must  get  away — be  by  myself." 

He  started  to  move  as  if  dazed. 
'  Yes,  Chris,"  she  agreed  brokenly.  "  But,  oh 
Chris,  come  back  sometime.  We  were  friends 
before — before — such  friends !  And  we  will  be 
friends  again — say  so — friends  still — after — " 
She  bent  to  the  wall. 

He  groped  his  way,  blindly,  to  the  door.  He 
could  not  look  at  her.  He  stammered, 

"  Sometime,  Card,  yes,  sometime — perhaps  it 
won't  be  long.  For,  anyhow,  we,  Card,  we  stick 
together — we're  friends  for  good." 

The  very  day  the  exposure  of  the  Electrical 
Consolidated  appeared  in  The  Pundit,  Mrs.  Corlis 
took  occasion  to  announce  her  departure  for  New* 
port.  She  would  leave  the  next  day  save  one. 

"  I  find  I  must  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  the  season 

379 


The  Mills  of  Man 

at  Newport  after  all,"  she  said.  "  It  is  the  inevita 
ble  frivolity  of  my  sex,  Walter  dear." 

She  had  just  returned  from  her  afternoon  drive, 
and  Mr.  Corlis,  who  had  come  home  from  down 
town  early,  had  met  her  as  she  stepped  out  of  the 
carriage  and  entered  the  house  with  her.  Now 
she  stood  with  one  foot  upon  the  first  step  of  the 
stair,  reluctant  to  pause,  indeed,  yet  held  by  his 
obvious  desire. 

"  I  wish  you  would  be  good  enough  to  recon 
sider,  Victoria,"  a  novel  dependence  in  his  man 
ner.  "  How  is  it  possible  for  me  to  get  along 
without  you?  Your  advice,  to  say  nothing  of 
your  encouragement,  is  simply  indispensable,  as 
you  must  yourself  be  aware.  You  have  done 
everything,  you've  been  the  real  manager;  you  it 
was  who  mollified  McBride,  you  influenced  the 
Governor — " 

The  mention  of  her  services  perceptibly  pained 
her. 

"  I  don't  wish  to  hear  of  that,  Walter,"  she 
bade.  Then  she  yawned. 

"  The  truth  is  I  have  lost  my  interest;  politics 
I  find  a  fearful  bore,  and  I'm  quite  tired  out. 
So,"  sweetly,  "let  me  go  upstairs  and  dress;  I 
haven't  any  too  much  time." 

He  insisted. 

"  I  fear  you  are  influenced  by  this  morning's 
Pundit;  you  are  experiencing  a  fit  of  disgust.  But 

380 


The   Mills   of  Man 

such  attacks,  believe  me,  Victoria,  are  inseparable 
from  the  management  of  great  affairs.  They  are 
the  malady  that  attends  success." 

She  smiled  with  disillusion  at  his  words — nay, 
with  just  a  suspicion  of  mockery  in  her  eyes. 

"  Don't  revive  that  old  vanity  in  me,  Walter; 
it  is  dead.  Besides,  I  assure  you,  I  don't  care;  I 
am  indifferent  to  great  affairs,  sick  of  senators 
and  governors  and  intrigues  and  lies.  My  taste  is 
feminine.  I  long  for  amusement,  and  Newport 
alone  can  satisfy  my  soul." 

He  reddened  a  bit  under  this  raillery. 

"  I  suppose  it  is  the  charges  of  The  Pundit  that 
have  produced  this  revolution  in  your  mind,"  he 
said  impatiently.  "  For  my  part,  I  fail  to  see  why 
the  publication  should  affect  you  in  the  least.  From 
your  point  of  view,  Victoria,  it  is  merely  an  acci 
dent.  You  knew  of  the  project  before;  I  laid  it 
all  before  you  and  you  were  enthusiastic;  you  in 
terested  Mr.  Jarrett  in  the  scheme.  What  I 
don't  understand  is  why  you  should  regard  the 
thing  so  differently,  simply  because  it's  been  aired 
in  a  newspaper." 

'  True,"  she  answered  coldly.  "  But  we 
women,  Walter,  are  limited  in  understanding  and 
seldom  perceive  the  full  consequences  of  anything 
until  some  one  comes  along  to  demonstrate  the 
enormity  in  detail  and  set  it  forth  in  black  and 


The  Mills  of  Man 

white.  Then  it  reaches  our  dullness  and — it 
shocks  our  morality." 

The  significance  of  her  look  passed  into  a  slow 
smile.  She  gathered  her  skirts  and  went  up  a  step 
or  two. 

"  A  moment,  please,"  he  begged,  nay,  bade. 
He  pressed  close  against  the  banisters. 

"  Is  that  all,  Victoria,  have  you  no  more  rea 
sons?"  His  eyes,  his  whole  face,  were  urgent, 
accusant.  "  Confess,  this  is  your  excuse — there  is 
something  you  have  learned.  Do  I  not  know 
what  it  is?  " 

He  gazed  up  at  her  with  that  force  of  intimacy 
which  in  a  second  of  time  cannot  be  denied  and 
which  a  second  is  sufficient  to  supply  the  answer 
for. 

She  hid  nothing,  did  not  attempt  to,  even. 
She  eyed  him  with  a  little  wonder  at  the  shameless- 
ness  of  his  effrontery. 

"  I  have;  it  is  true,"  she  said.  Then  she  trem 
bled. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  slightly. 

"  But  what  of  it,  Victoria;  you  are  a  woman  of 
the  world.  The  offense  is  surely  outlawed,  it  was 
so  long  ago,  and,  excuse  me,  you  have  condoned 
much  more  since.  I  am  confident  you  are  not  going 
to  be  foolish  at  this  eleventh  hour." 

He  continued  arguing  to  her  as  if  to  a  court; 
he  appealed  to  her  judgment.  Did  he  fancy  she 

382 


The   Mills  of  Man 

could  not  suffer,  that  the  politician  had  totally 
superseded  the  woman  in  her,  that  ambition  was 
her  exclusive  passion,  and  heart  by  her  discarded 
as  a  weakness?  She  realized  at  that  moment,  as 
never  quite  so  explicitly  before,  the  infinite  unlike- 
ness  of  her  husband  and  herself.  They  shared  in 
all  things  except  in  soul. 

He  urged  the  practical  considerations  for  which 
in  common  they  had  waged  the  campaign — her 
father's  reelection,  his  own  election,  the  aggran 
dizement  of  the  family.  But  she  shook  her  head. 

He  ventured  to  suggest  his  own  ambition,  to 
hint  his  Caesarean  nature,  to  avow  the  necessity 
of  her  cooperation  in  his  schemes,  a-s  of  her  tol 
eration  of  his  passions.  That  contention  he  had 
found  had  never  yet  failed  of  effect  upon  her. 

It  failed  now. 

"  No,  no,  Walter,"  she  plead,  almost  mourn 
fully,  "  do  not  try  to  influence  me.  I  am  through. 
You  may  be  a  great  man;  indeed,  I  believe  you 
are.  But  I  am  not  great,  I  am  only  a  woman,  and 
to  me  finally  the  claims  of  pity  and  of  sorrow 
seem  of  more  concern  than  those  of  intellect  and 
pride." 

She  trailed  above  the  banister  as  she  went 
slowly  up  the  stairs,  her  face  contrite  but  resolute. 
She  spoke  down, 

"  Reproaches  between  us,  Walter,  are  ridicu 
lous.  I  admit  I  have  no  more  reason  to  complain 


The   Mills   of  Man 

because  great  men  lack  soul,  than  you  have  be 
cause  women  lack  brain.  It  is  the  nature  of  both. 
Adieu." 


384 


I 


XLII 

THE  ISSUE  IS  FORMED 

T  WAS  "  hell  to  pay,"  as  McBride  had  said 
it  was  bound  to  be.  The  publication,  "  the 
exposure,"  by  The  Pundit,  drew  an  open  let 
ter  from  Governor  Ransom  within  twenty-four 
hours.  The  Governor  publicly  repudiated  the 
party  and  denounced  the  Chicago  platform  as  a 
deception  and  the  candidate  as  a  fraud.  Further 
more,  he  declared  himself  for  the  Democratic 
nominee,  Gustave  Schwab,  and  announced  that  he 
would  himself  take  the  stump  in  the  latter's  in 
terest. 

The  letter  contained  terrible  phrases,  whose 
biting  rancor  only  one  politician  in  Illinois  had 
the  ability  to  invent.  They  were  phrases  that  lent 
themselves  to  quotation,  being  detachable,  that 
nailed  the  attention  of  the  average  voter,  that  in 
delibly  printed  themselves  upon  the  popular  con 
sciousness. 

The  letter  styled  W.  H.  D.  Corlis  "an  Eastern 
candidate,"  and  called  McBride  "  the  Croker  of 
the  West."  The  "  precious  pair,"  the  letter 
charged,  were  united  in  an  attempt  to  corrupt  Illi 
nois  by  "  New  York  methods  "  and  to  foist  upon 

385 


The  Mills  of  Man 

the  state  a  machine  modeled  upon  those  of  Platt 
and  Quay.  Having  already  captured  Chicago, 
the  letter  asserted,  possessing  a  war  chest  supplied 
from  the  loot  of  a  great  city,  the  conquest  of  the 
state  was  next  in  order.  To  win  Springfield,  "  to 
set  a  corporation  instrument  and  personage  in  the 
gubernatorial  chair,"  to  elect  a  legislature  which 
would  prove  as  pliant  as  the  Chicago  Common 
Council  itself,  were  necessary  preliminaries  to  the 
general  debauch  of  free  grants  of  franchises  and 
privileges  to  corporations  that  "  the  piratical  Cor- 
lis-McBride  gang  "  had  planned.  "  McBride  has 
Tammanyized  Chicago — is  Corlis  to  be  allowed 
to  Tamrnanyize  the  state?"  was  the  letter's  final 
challenge. 

McBride  must  have  had  the  faith  derived  from 
successful  experiments,  as  to  the  efficacy  of  a  good, 
stiff  lie.  Immediately  he  followed  Governor  Ran 
som's  letter  of  repudiation  and  denunciation  by  an 
interview  of  general  and  explicit  denial,  which  all 
the  Chicago  newspapers  printed  next  morning. 
The  Boss  denied  the  story  of  The  Pundit;  he  de 
nied  that  any  corporation  such  as  the  Electrical 
Consolidated  had  been  proposed;  he  denied 
being  privy  to  any  scheme  of  spoliation  as  charged 
or  to  any  other  that  could  be  imagined.  He  denied 
these  things  for  himself,  for  Mr.  Corlis,  for  the 
party;  he  characterized  the  purported  exposure  as 
an  absurd  campaign  subterfuge  and  clumsy  lie. 

386 


The   Mills   of  Man 

Finally,  he  wound  up  by  calling  his  enemies 
"  pharisees,"  "  hypocrites,"  "  black-legs,"  and 
11  dudes." 

The  Boss  had  never  been  known  "  to  talk " 
in  the  progress  of  a  municipal  campaign;  he  was 
too  "  foxy "  to  commit  so  primary  a  mistake. 
His  friends  wondered  why  he  had  "  loosened  up  " 
now,  and  asked  themselves  if  the  "  old  man  "  had 
acquired  the  "  big  head "  or  lost  his  cunning. 
Indeed,  McBride  himself,  when  the  interview 
stared  at  him  in  cold  type,  manifested  nervousness. 
He  worried  in  his  own  mind,  although  to  follow 
ers  he  gruffly  said,  "  Be  on  your  way  and  mind 
your  own  bizness." 

Mr.  Corlis  took  him  to  task. 
'  You  should  have  consulted  me ;  you  aren't 
above  advice,  McBride.  Inside  Cook  County  I 
never  knew  your  judgment  to  be  at  fault,  and  no 
question  but  that  you  know  it  all.  But  the  state 
is  not  your  bailiwick;  the  state  game  is  a  different 
thing  from  the  city  game,  and,  when  you  talk  for 
the  state,  you  must  catch  the  exact  note  or  you 
produce  discord." 

The  candidate  was  considerate  and  superior. 

The  Boss  did  not  relish  the  lecture.  He  faced 
Corlis  with  red  in  his  eyes. 

"  Damn  it,  what  do  you  want?  I  ain't  think- 
in'  none  of  makin'  votes;  I'm  figgerin'  to  hold 
on  to  them  we've  got.  Something  had  to  be  said, 

387 


The   Mills  of  Man 

so  as  to  let  our  friends  answer  back,  when  Ran 
som  gets  goin'  roarin'  round  with  Pundit  ammuni 
tion  to  fire  off.  It's  up  to  us  to  put  up  a  hell  of 
a  bluff  and  right  now — what  it  is  don't  just  so 
much  matter,  so  it's  loud.  If  we  can  sit  solid  for 
a  month  and  stand  the  gaff,  we've  got  a  slim 
chance  comin'  to  us.  If  we  play  the  baby  for 
half  a  minit,  election  day'll  see  our  finish." 

Corlis  demurred;  he  not  only  took  exception, 
but  he  urged  his  own  plan.  The  truth  was,  the 
cool  and  practical  Corlis  took  his  own  political  ca 
reer  somewhat  romantically;  he  had  never  heard 
that  other  great  political  leaders  were  puppets  of 
an  Irish  boss,  and  he  fancied  that  this  was  an  op 
portune  occasion  to  assert  decisively  his  own  pri 
macy.  McBride  had  made  the  mistake  of  trusting 
the  Consolidated  secret  to  a  woman,  and  McBride 
was  now  aggravating  the  blunder  by  talking.  Cor 
lis  put  his  foot  down. 

But  McBride  "  got  his  back  up."  He  con 
fronted  the  candidate  with  a  black  scowl,  what 
"  polish  "  he  had  been  able  to  assume  through 
his  recent  brief  association  with  gentlemen  prov 
ing  as  transitory  as  "  a  shine  "  on  a  rainy  day. 
The  Boss  stood  brutal,  swaggering;  he  resembled 
a  bulldog  with  his  teeth  bared. 

"  Damn  you,  Corlis,"  he  broke  out  at  last, 
"  you  listen  to  me!  I've  got  you  where  the  hair's 
short  and  you  might  as  well  be  good  now  as  later, 

388 


The  Mills  of  Man 

for  you've  got  to  be  good.  I'm  runnin'  this  here 
campaign;  you're  just  as  much  a  greenhorn  in  pol 
itics  as  any  of  them  kid-gloved  gentlemen  of  the 
Reform  Committee.  You're  the  candidate  for 
certain  reasons,  you  are;  but  you  ain't  the  leader 
of  the  party  in  this  state  nor  in  no  ward  of  the  city 
nor  county  of  the  country,  you  ain't. — Now,  there 
ain't  no  need  for  your  gettin'  huffy,  it  won't  do 
you  no  good."  And  the  Boss  waved  a  fat  hand. 

Mr.  Corlis,  in  the  course  of  the  argument,  had 
turned  a  bit  red,  then  very  pale.  Now  he  said 
calmly, 

'  There's  some  truth  in  what  you  say,  Mc- 
Bride." 

As  a  practical  American  it  was  his  metier  to  get 
along  with  the  Boss,  although  as  a  misplaced  grand 
seigneur  his  impulse  was  to  knock  the  vulgar  pleb 
down.  But  Corlis  always  had  himself  well  in 
hand:  his  impulses  were  luxuries;  his  interests, 
the  bread  of  life. 

"  Now,  I'm  tellin'  you,"  continued  McBride, 
"  if  you  don't  want  to  be  licked  worse  than  any 
feller  ever  was  in  Illinois,  you've  got  to  come  to 
time.  I  tell  you  straight,  I  don't  trust  you  none. 
That's  the  truth,  and  to  be  flat,  I  want  assur 
ances." 

'What  more  do  you  mean?"  demanded  the 
candidate  in  indignation,  partly  simulated,  partly 
real.  "  Haven't  I  promised  you,  if  elected,  that 

389 


The  Mills  of  Man 

your  organization  will  find  itself  recognized  at 
Springfield  as  it  never  was?  Isn't  that  satisfactory 
to  you,  McBride?  " 

"  It  was;  it  ain't  no  more.  Your  promise  was 
clamped  tight  by  the  Electrical  Consolidated 
scheme;  you  had  to  sleep  in  the  same  bed  with 
me.  Now  that's  kilt.  If  you  once  get  to  be 
governor,  I've  no  ropes  on  you,  as  the  franchise 
bizness  won't  work.  So  the  way  the  thing's  turned 
out,  I  don't  see  where  I  get  off  at,"  growled  the 
Boss  in  conclusion. 

"  What  do  you  want?  "  Corlis  defined  the  con 
dition  bluntly. 

A  faint  glow  spread  under  the  harsh  visage  of 
McBride.  "  Just  a  sop,"  he  declared.  "  If  you 
still  want  me  and  the  organization  to  fight  out  this 
here  campaign  for  you,  you'll  please  just  put  down 
a  notion  of  your  grateful  sentiments  for  our  serv 
ices  on  paper,  and  sign  your  name  to  it.  I  want  it 
so  the  boys  can  know  exactly  what  you'll  do  for 
us,  when  you  fill  the  chair  down  at  Springfield." 

Corlis  recoiled.     He  suggested, 

u  But  suppose  some  time  it  should  get  out,  in 
the  future,  you  know;  it  would  ruin  my  career. 
National  politics  are  not  state  and  city  politics, 
McBride." 

The  Boss  smiled  a  bit  unctuously. 

"I  know,"  he  nodded;  "but  you'll  have  the 
chance  of  earnin'  back  the  paper  by  livin'  up  to 

390 


The  Mills  of  Man 

it's  stipulations,  Mr.  Corlis.  It's  a  trifle,  just  a 
little  thing  between  friends ;  that's  the  way  to  look 
at  it,  sure,  Mr.  Corlis.  And  did  you  ever  know 
Mike  McBride  to  go  back  on  a  friend  so  long 
as  a  friend  didn't  go  back  on  him?  " 

In  truth,  it  was  no  idle  boast. 

"  Oh,  I  have  no  uneasiness  on  that  score,"  Cor 
lis  assured  him.  "  But — but — it  looks  bad,  Mc 
Bride—" 

"  By  God,  squirmin'  won't  help  you  none,  Cor 
lis,"  swore  the  Boss  viciously.  "  Get  down  to 
bizness;  quit  foolin' ! — Do  you  want  to  be  elected 
or  don't  you?  And  if  you're  wantin'  me  behind 
you, — you've  got  to  deliver  the  goods." 

The  candidate  took  eighteen  hours  to  consider. 
Then  he  signed  a  political  promissory  note,  which 
the  genial  McBride  deposited  in  the  fire-proof 
safe  in  Gard  Brown's  office. 

Governor  Ransom  was  out  upon  the  stump  by 
the  first  week  in  October.  He  had  never  talked  so 
directly — he  talked  with  crowds  as  he  might  have 
talked  to  a  single  man — he  took  them  into  his 
deepest  confidence;  figuratively,  he  "button 
holed  "  each  audience.  And  the  people  responded. 
The  mistrust  they  had  regretted,  but  were  com 
pelled  to  reserve  against  him  as  a  past-master  of 
practical  politics,  disappeared;  they  instinctively 
felt  that  this  time  he  was  sincere,  that  he  had  no 


The   Mills   of  Man 

axe  to  grind;  that,  indeed,  he  was  venturing  all 
he  had,  all  his  future,  for  the  truth  as  he  saw 
it.  There  was  established,  from  the  first,  between 
Governor  Ransom  and  the  people  a  sympathy 
which  might  speedily  develop  into  devotion  on 
his  part  and  confirmed  trust  on  theirs.  It  became 
apparent  at  once  to  discerning  men  that  never  in 
his  life  had  the  Governor  been  so  dangerous  as 
he  now  was. 

There  was  good  reason  enough.  For  the  first 
time  in  his  life  was  that  skeptical  intellect  wholly 
convinced;  for  the  first  time  were  his  powerful 
personal  passions  associated,  by  accident  or  good- 
fortune,  with  a  great  principle;  for  the  first  time 
was  the  cause  he  pleaded  free  from  the  suspicion 
of  sinister  influence,  and  the  canvass  he  made  di 
vorced  from  desire  for  spoils.  Therefore  did 
Randolph  Ransom  stand  suddenly  revealed  in  all 
the  great  unrestrained  powers  of  his  intellect  and 
personality,  and  he  dealt  blows  that  crushed. 

Immense  crowds  heard  him. 

"  Shall  Illinois  become  a  western  New  York 
or  Pennsylvania?"  is  what  he  asked  of  them. 
"  Shall  the  Republican  Tammany  of  the  Black 
Boss  of  Chicago  rivet  collars  on  the  necks  of  the 
honest  farmers  and  plain  people  of  Abe  Lincoln's 
state  ? "  was  the  way  he  hammered  the  issue 
home.  And  whatever  he  had  learned  of  the  art 
of  persuading  and  arousing  men  during  twenty 

392 


The  Mills  of  Man 

years'  practice  of  the  profession  of  practical  poli 
tics,  he  used  now.  No  prejudice  but  what  he 
touched  into  hostility;  no  popular  misconception 
that  he  did  not  arm.  He  talked  the  vernacular. 
But  at  rare  times  his  force  and  fierceness  fired  his 
speech  into  such  purity  and  dignity,  that,  in  un 
conscious  accord,  all  the  demagogic  accessories  he 
loved  so  well  were  forgotten,  and,  as  if  despite 
himself,  Governor  Ransom  became  a  moral  leader. 

In  the  fervid  heat  generated  by  this  stir  of 
forces  and  clash  of  men,  the  organization  battle 
lines  of  Corlis  and  McBride  shriveled  like  long 
grass  in  a  Nebraska  drought.  From  every  point 
the  appeal  went  up  to  Republican  headquarters 
for  assistance,  and  each  appeal  ended  with  a 
prayer  for  "  just  one  speech  in  our  district  from 
Senator  Dawes." 

"  He  is  the  only  leader  the  people  will  listen 
to  after  Governor  Ransom,"  the  appeals  generally 
wailed.  "  One  blast  upon  his  bugle-horn  is  worth 
ten  thousand  men,"  they  quoted  frequently. 

The  Senator  was  already  gone  upon  the  stump. 
But  he  seemed  no  longer  the  old  "  Uncle  Simeon." 
To  McBride's  urgent  request  that  he  "  camp  on 
Ransom's  trail,"  he  responded  evasively;  there 
was  no  hurrying  him,  and  his  set  speeches  seemed 
perfunctory. 

Whether  the  State  Central  Committee  appealed 
to  Washington,  is  not  known.  However,  Senator 

393 


The  Mills  of  Man 

Dawes  did  receive  an  intimation  from  the  Presi 
dent;  a  close  friend  of  the  Administration  traveled 
to  Aurora,  where  the  Senator  was  to  speak. 

"  The  Republican  party  is  in  danger,"  was  the 
pith  of  the  exhortation  from  Washington;  the 
President  insists  the  party  must  be  saved  in  Illi 
nois;  the  issue  is  not  a  mere  state  issue.  If  the 
Democrats  win  in  Illinois  upon  the  issue  as  de 
vised  by  Governor  Ransom,  that  issue  will  become 
the  national  issue  two  years  hence.  If  Senator 
Dawes  will  be  induced  to  shake  off  his  apathy  and 
will  lead  the  party  to  an  old-time  victory,  the  Ad 
ministration  will  see  to  it  that  every  influence  is 
directed  to  aid  in  reelecting  him  Senator." 

The  wish  of  the  President  sufficed;  Senator 
Dawes  bestirred  himself.  The  word  from  Wash 
ington  made  of  it  an  Administration  fight,  at 
tached  national  significance  to  a  local  election. 
The  Senator  himself  became  the  President's  rep 
resentative,  and  he  took  pains  to  make  it  clear 
that  he  was  not  obeying  the  behest  of  "  the  Cor- 
lis-McBride  combine."  He  was  transformed  in 
a  night;  he  made  a  ringing  speech — announced 
his  intention  of  following  Ransom  up.  He  was 
once  more  the  leader  of  his  party. 

Circumstances  conspired  to  resolve  it  into  an 
old-fashioned  campaign.  The  people  were  arous 
ed;  discussion  became  general;  interest  waxed 
hot.  Money  and  manipulation,  the  weapons  of 

394 


The  Mills  of  Man 

organization,  while  effective  still,  were  so  only  at 
the  minimum;  argument,  eloquence  and  personal 
ity  proved  again  of  weight.  The  politician  of  the 
old  debating  days,  skilled  at  the  dialectics  of  the 
stump,  acquainted  with  the  temper  of  the  people, 
at  least  half  of  him  a  statesman,  came  into  vogue 
again  for  the  remainder  of  that  unique  campaign. 

Like  a  crafty  general,  Senator  Dawes  refused 
to  batter  Ransom's  front.  He  was  silent  upon 
corporations  and  he  affected  to  make  light  of  the 
Electrical  Consolidated  as  a  mere  local  scandal, 
if  it  did  not  turn  out  a  manufactured  lie.  He  pro 
claimed  Silver  and  Bimetallism  to  be  the  issue  of 
the  campaign,  an  issue  so  broad  and  so  important 
that  no  municipal  question  could  obscure,  no 
charge  of  corruption  usurp  its  place.  Let  the 
citizens  of  Chicago  settle  their  own  affairs;  the 
voters  of  the  state  had  far  larger  matters  to  en 
gage  their  concern. 

Seemingly  "  Uncle  Simeon "  had  turned  the 
enemy's  flank.  The  threat  of  Free  Silver  and 
cheap  money  alarmed  the  conservative  and  com 
mercial  classes,  while  respectability  in  general, 
though  shocked  by  the  exposure  of  The  Pundit, 
eyed  Ransom  askance  for  his  record  in  the  past, 
and  was  unattracted,  if  not  shocked,  by  the  sav 
agery  of  his  denunciations.  The  peril  of  corporate 
corruption  paled  in  comparison  with  the  peril  of 
demagoguery  and  of  a  dishonest  dollar. 

395 


The   Mills  of  Man 

If  the  Senator  made  a  mistake,  it  consisted  in 
his  neglect  of  the  pretense  of  consulting  the  Chi 
cago  Boss.  Necessity  alone  had  compelled  him 
to  be  cordial  to  McBride  at  the  time  of  the  Con 
vention.  When  the  developments  wrested  the 
directorship  of  the  campaign  from  the  Boss,  the 
Senator  assumed  that  he,  himself,  had  been  put 
back  into  his  old  leadership  and  that  McBride  was 
no  longer  a  factor,  savory  or  unsavory,  that  must 
be  considered. 

The  neglect  hurt  McBride,  who,  at  heart,  ad 
mired  the  old  statesman.  His  Celtic  susceptibil 
ity,  decisive  enough  where  the  business  of  the 
Cook  County  Organization  was  not  involved,  in 
clined  him  to  seek  favor  where  he  admired;  but, 
as  it  was,  the  Senatorial  aloofness  thrust  him  back 
upon  Corlis. 

By  the  middle  of  October  the  campaign  had  at 
tained  a  furious  pace.  The  issue  had  emerged 
sharply  and  already  the  result  in  part  was  antici 
pated.  Chicago  would  go  heavily  Republican; 
there  for  once  "  the  machine  "  and  "  the  better 
element,"  like  congenial  yoke-fellows,  pulled  to 
gether,  the  former  inspired  by  hope  of  plunder, 
the  latter  animated  by  a  fear  of  worthless  money. 
It  was  as  certain  that  all  Egypt  would  swing  into 
line  for  Ransom  and  his  cause. 

The  battleground,  the  disputed  territory,  lay 
between  these  two  extremes  of  the  state.  There 

396 


The   Mills  of  Man 

Senator  Dawes  had  always  been  strong,  and 
therein  he  was  now  pleading,  arguing,  persuading, 
by  day  and  by  night.  There,  also,  Governor  Ran 
som  ranged,  applying  the  torch  of  vituperation  to 
the  dry  brush  of  discontent,  making  specious  pleas 
interspersed  with  snatches  of  almost  sublime  ap 
peal. 

It  was  a  combat  of  political  giants.  The  last 
fortnight  it  narrowed  to  a  duel  between  the  two, 
and  the  rest  of  the  state  hushed  its  controversy 
to  hearken  to  the  clashings  of  their  swords.  Not 
since  the  day  of  Douglas  and  Lincoln  had  a  de 
bate  so  interested  the  people  in  Illinois  as  did  this 
dramatic  encounter  between  Senator  Simeon  E. 
Dawes  and  Governor  Randolph  Ransom. 


397 


XLIII 

WITH   J.   J.   J.'s   EYES 

MRS.  CORLIS,  that  season  at  Newport  and 
later  at  Lenox,  led  "  the  whirl."  She  gath 
ered  the  fruits  of  years  of  social  strug 
gle  and  devotion.  The  first  years  had  obtained 
her  recognition ;  the  last  brought  her  power ;  now 
she  enjoyed  almost  supremacy.  All  the  policy, 
the  tact,  the  intellectual  charm  she  had  inherited 
from  one  side,  together  with  the  will  to  dominate 
and  the  ability  to  manage  she  had  drawn  from  the 
other,  had  been  squandered  in  an  effort  to  conquer, 
and  then  to  maintain.  Yet  more,  in  the  midst  of 
the  astonishing  frivolity  of  this,  her  last  summer, 
she  even  accused  herself,  in  those  secret  confes 
sions  in  which  she  indulged,  of  having  spent  upon 
society  the  precious  treasures  of  her  soul  and  the 
ideals  of  her  mind. 

Yet  never,  apparently,  had  she  been  so  absorbed 
in  society.  She  spent  money  like  water;  she  en 
tertained  fabulously;  she  "  managed  "  amusement 
with  the  ingenuity  of  a  Barnum,  the  executive 
power  of  a  railway  president,  and  the  aesthetic 
sense  of  a  landscape  gardener.  She  adopted  the 
vernacular  of  the  "  smart  set  "  and  resumed  their 

398 


The   Mills   of  Man 

set  of  ideas.  "  Society  "  was  unquestionably  the 
salt  of  all  America,  the  savor  of  sixty  million  peo 
ple.  As  for  the  people,  they  were  proletariat, 
"  the  great  unwashed,"  a  vulgar  democracy,  whose 
antics  were  amusing,  whose  spasms  were  childish, 
though  some  day,  no  doubt,  the  same  might  prove 
dangerous.  What  a  pity  Hamilton's  notion  of 
the  necessity  for  an  aristocracy  had  not  originally 
prevailed,  instead  of  Jefferson's  conception  of  the 
divinity  of  the  mob. 

Yet  these  platitudes  irritated  her,  this  pose  often 
excited  her  scorn.  Mrs.  Corlis  would  surprise 
herself  by  applying  to  the  conditions  at  hand  the 
observations  she  had  learned  from  an  Illinois 
spoils  politician  and  a  Chicago  reporter.  She 
noted,  likewise,  in  herself,  the  persistent  recrudes 
cence  of  the  Puritan,  and  she  vaguely  resented 
the  borrowed  Anglican  terms  of  depreciation, 
"  dissent  "  and  "  dissenters,"  which  the  High 
Church  so  glibly  bestowed. 

The  noise  of  the  conflict  in  Illinois,  more  and 
more  reverberating  throughout  the  Union,  became 
the  topic  in  society  along  with  the  last  bit  of  gos 
sip.  They  deferred  to  her  political  knowledge; 
they  affirmed  she  came  of  a  "  political  family," 
and,  indeed,  were  disposed  to  plume  themselves 
upon  the  political  influence  possessed  by  a  woman 
of  themselves.  It  was  not  unlike  the  function 
fulfilled  by  a  political  duchess  in  England. 

26 


The   Mills   of  Man 

This  form  of  adulation  pursued  her  constantly, 
and  she  was  always  answering  questions  about  the 
nature  and  significance  of  the  struggle.  The  uni 
versal  interest  in  the  Illinois  campaign  proved  its 
dramatic  quality,  and,  whether  she  would  or  no, 
she  was  forced  to  consider  it. 

Thereby  came  intervals,  when,  despite  herself, 
the  politician  in  her  revived,  when  her  fancy  turned 
from  dance  and  dinner  to  the  prairies  of  "  the 
woolly  West,"  where  unregenerate  men  were  spar 
ring  for  grips  upon  one  another's  throats,  where 
her  father  fought  with  his  back  against  the  wall, 
where  boss  and  spoilsman  wrestled  for  sake  of 
power  and  office  and  pride  and  hate.  Beside  the 
starkness  of  that  fight,  the  intrigues  in  the  exclusive 
set  seemed  somewhat  tame. 

As  the  struggle  narrowed  to  the  consummation, 
willy-nilly  her  growing  interest  followed  it.  The 
final  duel  between  her  father  and  her  first  lover — 
if  its  melodrama  served  to  fix  the  attention  of  the 
nation,  how  absorbingly  it  captured  her !  She  was 
proud  for  them  both.  The  passionate  onslaughts 
of  Ransom  thrilled  the  strenuous  chords  in  her 
own  soul's  harp.  What  a  knight-errant  of  error, 
what  a  dark  champion  of  evil,  what  a  gladiator  for 
despair  was  he !  And  her  father — his  figure 
loomed  large  in  the  land;  he  was  proved  of  the 
stature  of  a  statesman;  he  was  equal  with  Clay 
and  Seward  and  Conkling. 

400 


The   Mills   of  Man 

She  grew  greatly  anxious  about  him,  moreover; 
she  was  concerned  for  his  nerves  and  his  endur 
ance.  She  had  perceived  at  Primrose  Hill  that  he 
was,  indeed,  an  old  man.  So,  when  the  combat 
had  developed  into  a  debate,  when  the  last  fort 
night's  battle  of  the  giants  opened,  all  America 
looking  on,  she  moved  to  an  abrupt  resolution. 
Why  be  bored  insufferably  at  Lenox,  when  she 
could  as  well  be  "  in  at  the  death  "  in  Illinois; 
why  worry  for  her  father's  health  at  a  distance, 
when  she  might  watch  over  it  at  his  side? 

She  telegraphed  her  uncle  up  at  his  place  in 
New  Hampshire  that  she  was  going  West  to  her 
father.  J.  J.  J.  answered  in  three  hours,  saying 
he  would  go  with  her,  and  bidding  her  meet  him 
in  Springfield. 

He  had  both  his  private  cars,  the  "  Swiftsure  " 
for  himself,  the  "  Victoria  "  for  her.  With  a 
baggage-car  ahead  they  made  up  a  special  train 
to  go  through  to  Chicago. 

Uncle  Johnny  was  very  glad  to  see  his  niece 
again,  and  Mrs.  Corlis,  resigning  herself  grate 
fully  into  his  hands,  became  again  a  child,  enjoyed 
the  luxury  of  dependence  and  exercised  the  pre 
rogative  of  weakness,  the  tyranny  of  caprice  and 
fondness. 

She  asked  him  why  he,  also,  was  going  to  Chi 
cago. 

"  Because  my  little  Vicky  wants  me  to,  and 
401 


The  Mills  of  Man 

because  I  want  to  be  with  her,"  the  old  man  an 
swered,  sentimentally. 

They  were  walking  up  and  down  the  station 
platform,  his  arm  in  hers,  her  shoulders  even  with 
his  head. 

Later,  on  the  train,  he  explained  more  sensibly. 

"  Thought  I  might  as  well.  I  don't  know  any 
thing;  but  I'm  uneasy.  There's  something's  got 
loose  out  there,  I  feel;  some  board's  sprung  and 
the  wind  whines  in  the  break." 

She  smiled;  she  was  not  unfamiliar  with  J. 
J.  J.'s  divinations,  his  Scotch  second  sight.  He 
rather  professed  the  infallibility  of  the  power, 
himself;  but  she  had  shrewdly  observed  the  power 
was  not  invoked  when  affairs  of  profit  or  problems 
of  organization  were  involved. 

However,  J.  J.  J.  returned  frequently  to  "  the 
thing  that's  got  loose  "  during  the  progress  of 
their  westward  journey. 

"  Vicky,  they've  got  to  dig  if  they're  going  to 
fool  the  old  man,"  he  asseverated.  '  They  may 
think  the  old  man  ain't  up  to  snuff — those  fellows 
who  feel  their  oats  just  a  bit  may.  But,  Vicky, 
the  old  man  has  saved  a  few  tricks  yet — keeps 
'em  up  his  sleeve  for  the  special  benefit  of  smart 
Alecs.  The  old  man  worms  in  until  he  reaches 
the  inside  of  whatever  he  goes  into;  they  can't 
lose  him,  those  fellows.  All  games  are  one  game, 
Vicky,  politics  like  the  rest,  and  if  a  man  can  play 

402 


The   Mills  of  Man 

one,  he  can  play  another.  Watch  me  play  at  poli 
tics,  when  I  get  out  among  'em,  Vicky,  watch 
me!" 

She  inquired  what  he  thought  of  The  Pundit's 
exposure  of  the  Electrical  Consolidated  scheme; 
would  it  operate  to  defeat  the  Senator's  reelec 
tion? 

"  I  don't  know,  Vicky,  that  ain't  in  my  line," 
he  answered,  his  eyes  glittering.  "  There's  one 
thing,  though,  and  that  you  can  hold  to — every 
thing's  going  to  be  brought  to  bear  to  push  him 
through.  No  skull-duggery's  going  to  be  allowed 
and  that  it  sha'n't,  I'm  going  to  be  on  the  spot 
to  see." 

"  Do  you  think  Walter  will  pull  through?  " 

"  How  should  I  know?  But  I'm  going  to  hint 
to  him  that  the  Senator's  the  main  tent  in  this  cir 
cus  and  that  he's  a  side-show." 
"  The  special  train  traveled  westward  at  great 
speed.  It  climbed  the  Berkshires  and  crossed  the 
Hudson.  It  rolled  New  York  state's  length 
through,  the  gateway  of  a  continent.  It  sighted 
Lake  Erie  and  whirled  across  the  Indiana  prairies. 
It  took  the  curve  of  Michigan's  blunt  end  and 
bored  into  the  smoky  pall  that  sits  upon  Chicago. 

Although  the  two  were  singularly  devoted,  it 
happened  that  they  had  not  been  alone  together 
on  a  journey  for  years.  The  chance  delighted 
J.  J.  J.;  he  talked  and  talked. 

403 


The   Mills   of  Man 

"  It's  my  innings,  I  guess,"  is  what  he  said, 
and  hours  long  he  showed  her  things  as  he  saw 
them ;  all  day  long  did  he  discourse,  pointing  out 
what  they  went  by. 

She  saw  cities  on  rivers  and  on  lakes  and  on 
railways ;  she  saw  tracks  and  factories  and  wharves 
and  grain  elevators;  she  saw,  or  divined,  in  detail 
and  in  whole,  the  movements  of  commerce  and  the 
output  of  industry7.  She  saw  the  enormity  of  the 
thing;  she  perceived,  vaguely,  the  epic  it  consti 
tuted  for  J.  J.  J.  And,  interested,  she  pressed 
him  for  accounts  of  his  own  schemes;  she  asked 
for  a  sketch  of  his  plans  in  the  West.  And,  lo, 
she  was  deluged  with  railways  and  mines,  new 
cities  and  great  ocean  steamers,  the  conquest  of 
the  Pacific  and  the  trade  with  Alaska  and  the 
East. 

She  was  stunned,  But  her  imagination  took 
wings.  She  wondered  why  all  these  years  she  had 
been  so  stupid.  To  employ  a  vulgar  term,  Uncle 
Johnny  had  figured  always  in  her  mind  as  "  the 
provider,"  and  that,  besides,  he  constituted  the 
refuge  she  had  against  all  her  disillusions  did  not 
render  him,  in  her  eyes,  less  prosaic.  True,  he 
had  talked  to  her  before,  but  either  she  had  not 
heard  or  else  he  had  not  talked  as  he  did  now. 
Now,  she  felt,  she  was  admitted  a  space  into  his 
mind:  it  was  like  standing  just  inside  the  door 
way,  watching  the  dynamos,  the  engines,  the  gigan- 

404 


The   Mills   of  Man 

tic  wheels,  the  delicate  mechanism,  the  thrust  of 
steel  arms,  and  feeling  under  one's  feet  the  throb 
of  the  titanic  force  of  the  whole. 

Thence  she  passed  to  some  comprehension  of 
his  patriotism,  whose  intensity  she  had  been  wont 
to  attribute  to  the  fact  of  his  primitiveness,  to  his 
lack  of  "  culture."  She  got  his  point  of  view:  she 
understood  how  America  was  the  greatest  country 
of  the  earth  to  him:  why  he  scorned  "dudes" 
and  could  not  be  induced  to  visit  her  at  Newport; 
why,  also,  he  was  interested  in  a  steel-mill  more 
than  in  a  picture  and  in  a  city  of  men  more  than 
in  a  drama;  how  it  was  the  possibilities  of  Niag 
ara,  as  power  harnessed  and  delivered,  should  set 
him  in  a  quiver. 

So,  seeing  with  his  eyes,  she  saw  America  in 
reality  for  the  first  time  in  her  life.  The  spectacles 
of  "  culture,"  those  of  pseudo-refinement,  of  "  so 
ciety,"  were  lifted  from  her  nose.  That  journey 
had  displayed  before  her  the  most  modern  of  de 
velopments,  the  most  enormous  and  complex  ma 
terial  movement  in  history — the  activity  of  the 
lakes  and  seaboard,  on  a  line  from  New  York  to 
Chicago.  And  the  master-mind,  the  great  man, 
the  true  hero  of  the  age,  was  an  old  man,  gnome- 
shapen,  big-eared,  with  grayish-streaked,  straight 
hair,  who  sat  near  her  and  interpreted  the  signs 
to  her,  as  the  train  glided  past  towns  and  chimneys 
and  power-houses  and  depots  and  plants. 

405 


The   Mills  of  Man 

The  new  revelation  explained  much.  It  ex 
plained  her  own  unconfessed  condemnation  of 
what  Newport  represented,  which  she  had  never 
been  able  to  justify  in  words.  Newport  was  a 
perversion,  an  exotic.  The  Japanese  use  the  tree's 
force  to  grow  monstrously  shaped  fruit;  so  New 
port,  with  all  the  strength  of  America  to  use,  re 
fuses  to  express  the  true  bloom  and  fragrance  of 
the  plant,  but  distorts  itself  into  a  hybrid  imitation 
of  an  alien  fruit — a  fruit,  moreover,  that  is  rotting 
on  the  feudal  tree,  an  infirm  tree  of  an  inferior 
species. 

"Family"  summed  up  the  perversion;  it  was 
the  fetish  of  "  society."  Its  reiteration  before 
this  had  bored  Mrs.  Corlis  insufferably;  with  her 
new  lights,  she  wondered  why  wealth  and  power 
should  possess  this  shame  of  itself  and  insist  on 
borrowing  a  skirt  of  "  family  "  to  drape  itself  in. 
Were  not  wealth  and  power  sufficient;  was  not 
the  modern  man  to  the  feudal  man  as  a  skilled 
craftsman  to  a  ditch-digger?  The  maker  of  rail 
ways,  the  master  of  electricity,  the  creator  of 
"  trusts,"  hardly  needed  mediaeval  castles  and  pen 
nons  and  crests.  The  idea  should  occasion  a  smile. 

Family!  America  hitherto  had  not  cherished 
families;  she  developed  men — men  the  most  fore 
handed,  ingenious,  determined,  the  world  had  ever 
seen.  It  was  a  new  type,  the  modern  type,  the 
dominating  type.  Yet  Newport  apologized  to 

406 


The  Mills  of  Man 

Europe  for  America,  deplored  the  crudity,  the 
newness. 

New  ?  Nay,  it  was  an  original  departure  Amer 
ica  had  made.  Realist,  the  word  Chris  Ruggles  had 
used,  recurred  to  her  mind.  That  was  it,  Ameri 
cans  were  realists,  more  than  merely  practical. 
As  religion,  or  glory,  or  grace  had  formed  the 
ideal  for  old-world  civilizations,  so  science  was 
the  sovereign  most  potent  in  America.  Her  in 
stitutions  fostered  realism;  the  impedimenta  of 
other  nations  had  dropped  at  the  beginning. 
America  marched  free.  The  traditional  tyrannies, 
the  absurdities  of  word  and  custom  were  abol 
ished  :  neither  churches  nor  castes  nor  the  abstrac 
tions  that  frightened  fools  a  thousand  years,  had 
captured  the  logical  thought-factories  of  pedants 
and  doctrinaires,  and  secured  the  loyalty  and  as 
sent  of  ignorance,  existed  here.  But  the  attain 
ments  of  great  men,  the  teaching  of  sages,  the 
aspirations  of  truth-lovers,  were  all  garnered  here. 
Such  were  common  possessions. 

The  aristocracy  of  the  mind  of  the  world  had 
entered  into  the  composition  of  America,  had 
brought  democracy  to  birth.  One  nation  had  been 
forged  by  an  unjust  conqueror,  another  by  a  mud 
dle  headed  priest,  a  third  by  a  subtle-lying  diplo 
mat.  But  America,  untrammeled,  sane,  realistic, 
grounded  on  foundations  more  sound  than  any 

407 


The  Mills  of  Man 

that  ever  yet  upheld  a  nation,  would  overwhelm 
the  world  and  touch  the  stars  at  last. 

Mrs.  Corlis  did  not  stop  to  see  her  husband  in 
Chicago,  although  J.  J.  J.  himself  did.  She  went 
on  in  the  car  "  Victoria  "  to  find  her  father,  down 
the  state. 


408 


XLIV 

ONE-MAN  POWER 

THE  crowds  that  listened  to  Senator  Dawes 
the  last  fortnight  of  the  campaign,  saw  al 
ways,  near  the  speaker,  sitting,  in  fact,  next 
the  chair  from  which  he  had  arisen,  a  woman 
with  white  hair  and  intense  dark  eyes.  They  called 
her  a  "  lady."  They  noted  with  what  interest, 
even  anxiety,  she  followed  the  speaker;  how  her 
solicitous  gaze  never  left  him  and  how  her  look 
cheered,  whenever  the  orator  scored  a  telling  point 
to  which  the  audience  responded  with  applause. 
At  such  moments,  very  often,  in  the  enforced  in 
terval  while  his  voice  was  useless  against  the  up 
roar,  the  Senator  would  be  seen  to  half  turn  and 
search  for  her  eyes.  He  would  smile  wrhen  he 
found  them,  and  she  might  smile,  or  even  nod, 
in  response,  or  sometimes  her  beautiful  eyes  would 
fill  quickly  and  two  drops  would  course  down  her 
cheeks. 

It  was  a  touching  bit  of  by-play,  and  the  cynics 
affirmed  that  it  "  worked."  The  crowd  generally 
knew  who  she  was,  or  were  informed;  they  had 
read  in  their  papers  that  their  old  Uncle  Simeon's 
daughter,  the  brilliant  Mrs.  Corlis,  had  journeyed 

409 


The   Mills  of  Man 

from  Newport  to  travel  with  her  father,  while  he 
stumped  the  state;  they  had  heard  of  her  private 
car  which  she  had  put  at  her  father's  disposal;  and 
they  knew  she  was  there  to  take  care  of  the  Sena 
tor  and  to  see  that  he  took  care  of  himself.  The 
sight  of  such  filial  devotion  touched  their  senti 
ment  ;  unquestionably  it  made  voters.  Was  it  not 
pathetic — the  old  man  overcoming  his  age  to. 
battle  manfully  with  his  enemies,  while  his  devoted 
only  daughter  hung  upon  his  words  and  watched 
vigilantly  for  the  signs  of  exhaustion. 

When  a  speech  was  finished,  she  was  the  first 
upon  her  feet,  by  his  side,  asking  how  he  felt, 
holding  his  hands.  She  would  make  him  sit  down 
at  once,  or  even  insist  that  he  be  driven  immedi 
ately  to  the  hotel  or  the  car.  When  he  shook 
hands,  standing  to  receive  all  who  filed  past  him, 
she  always  stood  next  him,  on  the  left  hand;  she 
was  cordial  to  saint  and  sinner  alike — they  all  had 
votes — but  she  kept  an  eye  on  her  father  even 
while  she  received  or  dispensed  a  compliment. 
The  Senator,  at  such  times,  appeared  old-fash 
ioned  and  homely,  abrupt  and  awkward,  but  ex 
uded  from  every  pore  the  pure  milk  of  human 
kindness.  Only  as  he  pronounced  the  words, 
"  My  daughter,"  did  pride  stiffen  his  manner; 
then  the  plain  citizen,  who  had  been  flattered  or 
conciliated  by  the  old  man's  unassuming  cordial 
ity,  owned  himself  completely  conquered  by  the 

410 


The  Mills  of  Man 

distinguished  woman's  queenly  condescension. 
Thus  was  the  bird  potted  twice. 

Truth  to  tell,  Mrs.  Corlis  walked  into  popu 
larity  or  notoriety  without  knowing  it;  she  be 
came  one  of  the  u  features  "  of  the  campaign. 
She  was  plainly  garbed  in  gray,  a  gray  traveling 
gown  and  a  gray  hat  with  a  gray  feather.  She 
looked  rather  tired  and  her  long  face  was  thin; 
only  the  dark  eyes  showed  her  interest — they  and 
the  eager  bend  of  her  tall  figure  towards  her 
father  as  he  spoke.  Indeed,  some  pathos  joined 
them,  the  father  and  daughter — perhaps  the 
shadow  of  the  Unknown  which  lay  upon  them 
both;  nor  was  the  wary  old  politician  slow  to  use 
and  to  heighten  subtly  the  effect. 

Mrs.  Corlis  by  the  end  of  the  first  week  felt  re 
lieved;  she  was  convinced  that  the  tide  was  run 
ning  strongly  with  her  father.  The  crowds  were 
so  immense  and  the  enthusiasm  so  fervent  that  she 
found  it  impossible  to  associate  such  portents  with 
defeat.  However,  she  was  aware  that  the  Senator 
was  not  sanguine;  he  seemed  to  realize  the  neces 
sity  for  desperate  fighting  to  the  last  hour  of  the 
campaign. 

"  No,  daughter,"  he  admitted,  "  there's  noth 
ing  in  sight  to  complain  of.  But  you  must  remem 
ber  the  cheers  of  the  crowds  are  not  the  ballots  of 
the  people,  necessarily.  The  other  fellow  is  never 

411 


The   Mills   of  Man 

beaten  until  the  day  of  election  is  over,  and  mebbe 
not  then." 

"  But  they  all  seem  to  know  you;  they  are  so 
fond  and  so  proud  of  you,  Pater." 

His  fine  head  was  thrown  back  a  moment,  just 
as  a  war-horse  in  action  may  arch  his  proud  neck. 
Yet  he  said  sadly,  "  Ah,  I  wonder,  I  wonder. 
At  times  it  seems  like  the  old  days.  But  it  isn't. 
And  mebbe  I  am  not  abreast  of  the  times — per 
haps  I  ought  to  be  dead.  This  is  a  new  genera 
tion  I'm  addressing;  a  new  generation  with  new 
needs,  new  aspirations,  new  prejudices,  Vicky." 

He  looked  askance  at  her,  wistfully,  to  discover 
if  in  her  mind  she  could  deny  that  truth. 

She  sighed. 

"  Well,  if  you  do  not  understand  them,  Pater, 
who  does?  I  hardly  fancy  Boss  McBride  can,  or 
— or  Walter  either." 

"  There's  Ransom," — she  started  at  the  name 
— "  he  may." 

The  Senator  was  pacing  the  motionless  car. 

"  I  read  Randolph's  speeches  each  morning; 
and  it  has  struck  me,  do  you  know,  that  while  I 
am  talking  about  the  past,  he  is  talking  about  the 
future.  We  may  pull  ourselves  through  by  the 
skin  of  our  teeth  this  time — but,  Vicky,"  he 
stopped  to  turn  to  her  directly,  "  Ransom  has  us, 
and  he  knows  it.  This  campaign  is  more  than 

412 


The   Mills  of  Man 

likely  to  make  him  the  Democratic  nominee  for 
President  two  years  from  now." 

The  old  man  shook  his  head. 
'  They  say  Ransom's  a  practical  politician,"  he 
mused  aloud;    "  so  was  Lincoln,  and  Lincoln  was 
defeated  two  years  before  he  was  nominated." 

However,  the  sight  of  the  crowds  had  con 
vinced  Mrs.  Corlis  that  all  was  well;  nor  was  she 
troubled  about  the  future,  if  only  she  could  see  her 
father  reflected  this  time.  But  the  Senator  had 
interested  her  doubly  in  Governor  Ransom,  and 
she  went  to  Christopher  Ruggles  to  learn  more. 
The  reporter  had  just  joined  them  for  The  Pundit, 
having  previously  been  well  over  the  state  with  the 
Governor. 

''  What  I  think,  Mrs.  Corlis,  I  have  put  in  The 
Pundit,"  Chris  answered.  "  As  I  have  said  all 
along,  1  believe  the  people  are  stirred  up  to  the 
depths  this  time." 

"  But  how  do  you  account  for  the  enthusiasm 
we  encounter?  "  she  persisted. 

"If  the  issue  were  simply  whether  Senator 
Dawes  is  to  be  returned  to  the  Senate,  there  could 
be  but  one  outcome,"  he  said,  frankly.  "  But  it  is 
a  much  more  involved  question  than  merely  the 
great  hold  the  Senator  has  upon  the  people  of  Illi 
nois." 

Mrs.  Corlis  experienced  a  rare  moment  of  petu 
lance. 


The   Mills   of  Man 

"  I  can't  believe  it;  I  can  see  for  myself,"  she 
said,  tapping  a  foot. 

"  Excuse  me,"  begged  Chris,  a  pained  look  in 
his  honest  eyes. 

Magnanimity  flooded  back  into  her  face. 

"  Ah,  it  is  I  who  am  at  fault;  I  beg  your  par 
don,  Chris.  Do  I  not  know  you  are  sincere  and 
that  you  never  flatter?  How  susceptible  the  most 
earnest  of  us  are  and  how  we  all  do  dislike  plain 
truth.  But  tell  me,  is  Governor  Ransom  satisfied 
for  himself?" 

"  I  do  not  know.  When  the  man  is  not  a  whirl 
wind,  he's  a  sphinx." 

"  But  are  his  meetings  enthusiastic  like  ours?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Even  more  so?  " 

"  At  least  quite  as  much  so." 

Chris  showed  both  his  reluctance  to  confess  the 
truth  under  this  inquisition,  and  his  aversion  to 
coloring  the  truth  falsely.  Mrs.  Corlis  laughed. 

"  Chris,  I  think  I  will  learn  for  myself.  Can 
you  take  me  some  night  to  one  of  his  meetings? 
Let  me  see,  he  speaks  for  the  last  time  in  Peoria 
next  Saturday  night;  we  speak  there  in  the  after 
noon  at  the  Fair  Grounds,  and  he  speaks  in  the 
evening  at  the  Rink." 

It  was  a  crisp  autumn  night;  but  the  dense 
crowd  in  the  Rink  had  fouled  the  air.  A  cloud  of 
tobacco  smoke  drifted  through  the  vast  enclosed 

414 


The   Mills  of  Man 

space  above  the  vociferous  heads  of  the  sovereign 
voters  of  America.  Ruggles  had  secured  seats  in 
the  box  reserved  for  "  The  Press,"  and  therein 
Mrs.  Corlis  was  seated,  not  ten  feet  from  the  low 
platform,  nor  much  above  the  plane  of  the  presid 
ing  chairman's  head. 

Governor  Ransom  had  been  speaking  for  half 
an  hour.  At  the  moment  he  was  sketching  the 
early  history  of  America,  summing  up,  in  his  own 
fashion,  some  aspects  of  the  Revolution.  He  was 
saying, 

"  It  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  the  Revolution  the 
mere  revolt  of  oppressed  ignorance,  the  revenge 
of  the  vile,  the  retaliation  of  tortured  wretches; 
our  Revolution  was  no  French  Revolution.  No, 
the  Republic  was  conceived  in  the  womb  of  wis 
dom  and  delivered  through  the  pangs  of  the  pur 
est  and  loftiest  of  mankind.  A  race  of  freemen, 
who  from  time  immemorial  had  been  free,  who 
were  led  by  philosophers  and  sages,  resolved  to 
put  into  granite,  to  embody  in  sovereign  institu 
tions  what  was  in  their  mind  and  of  their  bone, 
what  was  their  ideal,  what  seemed  to  them  abso 
lute  justice  and  eternal  freedom.  Our  Republic  is 
the  evolution  of  the  centuries;  is  the  consumma 
tion  of  mankind's  best  thought  and  truest  aspira 
tion;  is  the  approximation  to  the  visions  of  great 
men  from  Plato  the  Athenian  to  Milton  the  Puri 
tan." 

415 

27  +   ° 


The   Mills  of  Man 

Mrs.  Corlis,  where  she  listened,  had  presented 
to  her  eyes  the  profile  of  the  orator.  The  face 
was  deadly  thin,  worn  down  by  the  work  of  the 
campaign  and  by  the  passion  of  his  oratory.  But 
the  wasting  had  erased  the  last  lines  of  excess  and 
smoothed  the  swellings  of  dissipation;  the  purifi 
cation  of  great  chastisement  and  the  responsibility 
of  a  great  undertaking  had  both  clarified  the  fea 
tures  and  illumined  the  expression.  The  tall  fig 
ure  was  slighter  and  its  bones  seemed  more  visi 
ble  ;  the  long  arms  worked  like  pistons  as  he  spoke. 
Yet  somehow  the  man  was  beautiful;  the  profile's 
delicate  hardness  was  cut  like  a  classic  cameo,  and 
the  irritable  dark  eyes  glowed,  occasionally  flashed 
into  flame. 

Ransom  was  lifted  involuntarily,  as  it  were,  by 
the  swell  of  the  great  subject  with  which  he  dealt; 
for  two  minutes  he  was  splendid;  for  one  mo 
ment,  divine.  As  he  recited  the  glory  and  beauty 
of  the  Republic  his  speech,  perforce,  became  re 
fined;  the  vernacular  gave  place  to  the  classical; 
the  sentences  of  Cicero  and  Chatham  and  Web 
ster  were  reborn.  The  poet  in  the  man,  and  the 
angel,  which  she  knew  were  there,  transformed  his 
poor  utterance  and  transfigured  his  meagre  form. 
He  veritably  lifted  the  multitude  with  himself  to 
the  crest  of  his  inspiration.  The  last  words  fur 
rowed  the  mind,  and  lingered  in  the  ear: 

"  The  Republic  is  the  sweetest  hope  of  human- 
416 


The  Mills  of  Man 

ity;  its  existence  atones  for  the  past,  is  the  dawn 
of  the  future!  " 

The  orator  paused,  shaken  with  his  own  thun 
der.  There  were  cheers — cataracts  of  cheers.  In 
the  midst  of  that  pandemonium  his  circling  glance 
crossed  the  gaze  of  the  woman — it  seemed  to  her 
his  eyes  flashed  recognition,  pride  of  triumph  a 
moment,  then  alienation  and  sadness  or  something 
akin.  But  an  instant;  for  he  turned  and  stalked 
along  the  front  of  the  platform  to  the  farther  end, 
seeking  an  opening  to  begin  afresh.  But  the 
crowd  would  not  have  it;  applause  renewed  itself 
and  increased;  the  people  bawled  forth  their  en 
dorsement. 

But  that  brief  moment  had  sufficed.  In  it  Mrs. 
Corlis  was  convinced  that  she  had  seen  through 
the  windows  into  the  dark  privacy  of  a  lonely  soul. 
At  least,  so  she  thought.  She  realized  his  life  and 
she  pitied  him.  He  had  suffered  for  years  what 
only  intensity  such  as  his  suffers  and  endures;  he 
had  been  proudly  solitary,  abjectly  forlorn,  deso 
late  and  desperate  at  heart.  That  life  struggle  of 
his  had  been  silent  and  constant  and  grim;  it  had 
made  him  bitter  and  unbelieving  and  hard;  utter 
loneliness  had  driven  him  to  gambling  and  drink, 
rendered  him  perverse,  engaged  him  in  wrong 
causes,  enlisted  him  in  forlorn  hopes.  As  Uncle 
Johnny  had  observed  at  the  Convention,  it  was 
nerves;  he  must  forget  himself,  strain  his  facul- 


The   Mills   of  Man 

ties  so  far  that  consciousness  ceased  to  ache.  To 
achieve  that  it  needed  whisky  or  poker  or  a  cam 
paign  such  as  this. 

So  the  woman  interpreted  after  woman's  fash 
ion,  romantically. 

Meantime,  Ransom  had  settled  to  another 
tack: 

"  Our  Republic,"  he  cried,  "  so  great  as  it  is,  in 
its  beginning,  its  aspirations,  its  achievements,  its 
yet  further  promise,  is  now  sordidly  menaced. 
The  South  once  manfully  assailed  it,  hammered  it 
heroically  and  honorably.  The  warfare  of  brave 
men  it  could  resist.  Can  it  resist  the  conspiracy  of 
cowards,  the  undermining  of  money-changers,  the 
corruption  of  Shylocks?  That  is  the  question!  " 

The  man  was  again  transformed,  become  a  de 
mon.  The  eyes  glared  with  hate;  the  thin,  flexi 
ble  lips  curled  back  like  a  dog's  in  his  fury.  Every 
muscle  in  his  face  was  awork,  the  mask  which  had 
been  as  the  calm  sublimity  of  a  bust  of  Augustus, 
become  now  a  writhing  confusion  of  passions  let 
loose.  He  hit  right  and  left.  The  crowd  liked  it 
well.  He  left  argument  and  abstractions;  he  ig 
nored  party  and  program  to  reach  home  to  the 
men  who  ruled  the  party  and  proposed  the  pro 
gram.  Personalities  were  his  theme;  nor  did  he 
spare  Senator  Dawes  this  time,  but  imputed  blunt 
ly  to  the  latter  the  cowardice  of  old  age  and  the 

418 


The   Mills  of  Man 

willingness  to  compromise  characteristic  of  the 
confirmed  office-holder. 

"  Behold,"  Ransom  cried,  "  the  friend  and  pu 
pil  of  Lincoln  become  the  Senatorial  page  of  J.  J. 
Jarrett,  Esquire !  What  a  fall  is  there,  my  coun 
trymen  !  " 

Then,  with  a  sneer,  he  named  W.  H.  D.  Corlis. 
The  building  itself  quaked  beneath  the  explosion 
of  howls,  hisses  and  execrations. 

Ruggles  screamed  close  to  Mrs.  Corlis'  ear, 

"  Had  we  not  better  get  out  before  we  get 
caught  in  the  crowd  at  the  end?  " 

She  nodded  assent. 

She  leaned  back  in  the  darkness  of  the  carriage 
gratefully.  Her  escort  left  her  alone;  he  fancied 
her  deeply  hurt  and  would  give  her  time  to  re 
cover  her  poise. 

But  what  she  was  thinking,  or  rather  feeling, 
he  could  not  have  surmised. 

"  What  a  man,  what  a  waste !  So  much  power, 
so  much  intellect,  so  much  passion,  gone  but  to 
furnish  another  demagogue !  Would  it  still  have 
been  so,  I  wonder,  had  it  been  different?  Could 
a  woman  have  kept  him  sane,  could  she  have 
pruned  him,  held  him,  made  the  best  master  in 
him — could  she,  some  woman  he  loved,  the 
woman  he  loved?  As  it  is,  he  has  been  a  mere 
lonely  rebel  all  his  life,  when  he  was  designed  for 
a  great,  positive  force.  Ah,  me,  I  wonder  how 

419 


The   Mills   of  Man 

much  of  that's  true,  and  would  I,  if  I  had  life  to 
live  over,  would  I  choose  differently?  How  I  do 
pity  him!  But  life — it  is  bound  to  be  a  tragedy, 
no  matter  what  in  it  we  choose." 

The  carriage  had  already  approached  the  hotel 
before  Mrs.  Corlis,  emerging  from  her  reverie, 
spoke  to  Ruggles. 

4  Thank  you,  Chris.  You  have  convinced  me; 
it  is  a  wave.  There's  small  chance  for  opportunist 
politics,  when  opposed  to  such  original  force  as 
we've  just  seen." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  you,  Mrs.  Corlis,"  said  the  re 
porter,  moved  by  he  knew  not  what  sympathy. 

'  Yes,  Chris,"  she  placed  a  hand  on  his  arm, 
"yes,  but  it  was  a  mighty  exhibition,  was  it  not? 
For  myself,  I  never  knew  what  one-man  power 
amounted  to  before." 

"  You  should  not  underestimate  the  force  of 
the  wave  he  rides,  Mrs.  Corlis.  It  is  not  all  Gov 
ernor  Ransom." 


420 


XLV 

A  SNEAKING  CHIVALRY 

MRS.  CORLIS  on  her  arrival  at  the  hotel 
changed  her  gown  for  a  dressing  robe  be 
fore  she  sought  her  father  in  the  room  ad 
joining  her  own. 

She  found  him  gay,  or  at  any  rate,  superficially 
so;  glad  because  responsibility  was  over  and  the 
active  campaign  closed.  If  he  concealed  an  anx 
iety  concerning  the  issue  of  the  next  Tuesday,  for 
the  hour,  at  least,  the  Senator  was  as  playful  in 
mood  as  a  boy  newly  let  loose  from  school. 

He  talked  of  Primrose  Hill  and  of  nothing 
else.  They  were  going  down  to  the  place  next 
morning,  intending  to  spend  there  the  intervening 
days  until  the  election  had  been  determined.  He 
joked  about  it  as  "  the  Sabine  farm."  He  quoted 
Horace.  He  babbled  of  the  river,  his  green  crops 
and  the  old  dogs.  He  would  not  hear  of  politics. 

A  knock  upon  the  door. 

"  If  that's  any  danged  politician,  Vicky,  I'm 
asleep  or  something  equally  as  good." 

His  daughter  nodded  as  she  glided  across  the 
room.  She  shut  the  door  again,  turning  the  key. 

"  Only  an  envelope,  Pater,  with  your  name  on 
421 


The   Mills   of  Man 

it."  She  balanced  it  on  her  hand.  "  Let  us  wait 
until  morning  to  open  it." 

"  I  guess  I'll  see  what  it's  like,"  said  the  Sena 
tor.  He  took  the  long  yellow  envelope  she 
brought  to  him.  "  Umph,  this  is  marked  '  Imme 
diate  and  Important.'  I  wonder  if  it  just  is  or 
just  isn't,"  he  added  whimsically. 

"  Of  course  not,"  Mrs.  Corlis  decided.  Some 
how  she  occultly  feared  the  envelope.  "  It's  just 
some  nothing,  some  office-seeker,  some  big  bore, 
anyhow.  We'll  let  it  go  until  morning,  or — until 
after  election." 

Senator  Dawes  sighed  resignedly. 

"  I  hope  it  is  not  some  summons  that  will  spoil 
our  vacation,  at  all  events,  Vicky.  It  may  be  im 
portant;  I'll  just  dispose  of  it." 

He  tore  open  the  envelope  and  extracted  a  sheet 
of  yellow  telegraph  paper.  He  read,  and  his 
daughter  read  with  him,  over  his  shoulder: 

"  Christopher  Ruggles, 

"  Harpster   Hotel,    Peoria. 

"Pundit  publishes  Sunday  verified  story  of  Cor- 
lis-McBride  conspiracy  to  knife  legislative  ticket 
in  Chicago  and  state  to  aid  head  of  ticket.  Show 
Senator  Dawes  immediately. 

(Signed)  "  MACPHERSON." 

Both  stared  dumfounded  at  the  yellow  sheet. 
'At  last  she  put  a  firm  hand  on  his  shoulder  and 
asked  as  steadily  as  she  could: 

422 


The  Mills  of  Man 

"  Do  you  believe  it  is  possible,  Pater;  can  it  be 
true?"  ' 

"  Mac  never  lies  knowingly,"  was  the  succinct 
response. 

"  But  he  may  be  mistaken  occasionally." 

"He's  never  mistaken;  that's  the  joke  of  it." 
The  Senator  laughed,  a  dry,  hard,  small  laugh. 

"  But  you  can't  believe — you  can't  think,  that 
Walter  could  consent  to  such  a  low-down  trick 
against  you." 

He  freed  his  shoulder  from  her  hand  and  got 
upon  his  feet. 

"  Oh,  there's  nothing  so  mean  that  men  will  not 
do  it."  He  shook  himself  irritably.  "  I've  been 
forty  years  in  politics,  and  do  you  suppose  I  retain 
any  illusions  about  men?  "  He  began  abruptly  to 
pace  the  room.  "  Honor  or  obligation — they  are 
things  men  believe  in  before  an  exigency  tries 
them,  and  then  they  are  things  men  prate  about  as 
they  do  of  their  lost  youth  and  their  lost  love." 

"  But,   father,  you  are  saying  terrible  things." 

"  So  I  am,"  he  declared  recklessly;  then  he 
added  more  softly:  "but  you  must  bear,  Vic 
toria,  with  a  beaten  old  man."  He  stopped  and 
she  saw  his  face — it  was  ashen  and  hollow  and  bit 
terly  ashamed.  "  The  truth  must  out  some  time, 
and,  if  a  man  will  but  study  them  long  enough,  he 
will  come  to  have  no  more  belief  in  his  fellows 
than  he  has  in  himself." 

423 


The   Mills   of  Man 

At  that  he  set  off  again  to  walk  the  room;  his 
head  sagged  down  to  his  breast  and  his  lips 
twitched. 

Mrs.  Corlis  stood  rooted  behind  the  chair  in 
which  he  had  read  the  telegram.  She  leaned  on 
its  back  and  stared  with  unseeing  eyes. 

Presently  the  Senator  resumed  speaking,  al 
though  he  did  not  stop  in  his  walk,  but  on  the  con 
trary  augmented  the  rate  of  his  steps. 

'  You  went  to  hear  Ransom  to-night,  Victoria  ? 
I  guessed  it.  Tell  me,  what  did  he  say?  Did  he 
attack  me  personally?  I  surmised  he  might  have 
said  something  bitter  from  the  way  you  acted 
when  you  came  back.  What  was  it?  he  did  not 
impugn  my  honor  or  charge  that  I  had  broken  my 
word  or  anything  of  that  sort,  did  he?  " 

"  Why,  father—" 

"  You  may  as  well  tell  me  the  round  truth,  Vic 
toria." 

"  He  did  attack  you.  I  fancy  you  would  call  it 
that.  I  did  not  stay  to  hear  all  he  said,  but  as 
much  as  I  heard  was  much  more  against  Walter 
than  against  you. — No,  he  did  not  even  imply  any 
thing  of  the  kind  you  suggest." 

Senator  Dawes  emitted  a  great  sigh  of  relief. 

"  Good,  good !  "  he  muttered.  Then  he  ex 
plained:  "  I've  always  regarded  Randolph,  had 
an  affection  for  him,  in  fact,  something  as  if  he 
were  my  own  son.  And  he  might  have  imagined 

424 


The   Mills   of  Man 

— to  tell  the  truth  he's  had  ample  excuse  for  imag 
ining — you  see,  I  promised  him  at  Primrose  Hill 
I'd  let  him  know,  I'd  tell  him  if  there  was,  or  was 
to  be,  any  corporation  franchise  scheme  behind 
Corlis'  nomination.  And  he  learned  there  was 
from  The  Pundit,  not  from  me.  I've  been  in  poli 
tics  most  a  lifetime,  and,  the  Lord  knows,  a  fellow 
can't  be  squeamish;  but  I'd  hate  to  have  Ran 
dolph  Ransom  think  I  lied  to  him.  Ransom  never 
lied  to  his  friends — that's  one  thing  he  never  did." 

He  dropped  himself  mournfully  into  a  chair 
and  drooped  his  venerable  head. 

His  daughter  watched  pityingly,  too  absorbed 
in  her  pity  to  think  of  asking  questions. 

"  Cheer  up,"  she  bade  after  a  bit.  "  We'll  go 
up  to  Chicago  to-morrow,  father.  Uncle  Johnny 
is  there  and  he'll  straighten  things  out  for  us.  His 
heart's  set  on  your  reelection  and  when  we  tell 
him,  he  will  find  out  the  truth,  and  we'll  let  him 
deal  with  Walter  and  Mr.  McBride." 

Senator  Dawes  looked  up  surprised,  but  with 
face  partly  cleared. 

"  Oh,  if  you  say  so,  Victoria,  your  uncle  will 
put  the  screws  on  that  combination  as.no  one  else 


can." 


"  Then  he  shall,  father." 

In  the  morning,  however,  Senator  Dawes  de 
clared  he  meant  to  go  to  Primrose  Hill  instead  of 
to  Chicago;  he  had  changed  his  mind  overnight. 

425 


The  Mills  of  Man 

If  Victoria  still  thought  it  would  do  any  good,  she 
could  go  on  herself  to  the  city;  indeed,  it  might 
be  she  would  have  more  influence  with  her  uncle 
alone.  As  for  himself,  the  Senator  was  satisfied 
he  was  beaten;  he  was  convinced  MacPherson's 
news  was  authentic,  and  the  chances  were  ninety- 
nine  out  of  a  hundred  that  it  was  now  too  late  to 
reverse  the  engine,  even  if  Corlis  and  McBride 
were  to  be  persuaded  or  coerced  into  attempting 
it.  MacPherson  had  always  treated  him  with  re 
spect,  said  the  Senator,  and  the  editor  had  meant 
him  a  kindness  by  sending  him  a  warning  to  stand 
out  from  under. 

The  inducements  which  had  decided  him  to  this 
course  seemed  sufficiently  plausible;  yet  Mrs. 
Corlis  was  puzzled  by  an  odd  change  in  her  fath 
er's  demeanor.  She  caught  him  at  intervals  steal 
ing  anxious  glances  at  her,  as  if  he  wished  to  dis 
cover,  furtively,  whether  she  possessed  either 
knowledge  or  an  opinion  of  something — what,  she 
could  not  define. 

One  of  his  first  questions  had  been : 
"  Vicky,  have  you  seen  the  morning  papers?  " 
"  Why,  Pater,  you  know  I  seldom  read  the  pa 
pers,"    she    had    answered    in    surprise.      Was    it 
fancy,  or  did  he  look  relieved? 

The  car  "  Victoria  "  they  found  at  the  station 
ready  to  be  attached  to  the  morning  train  for  Chi 
cago,  when  the  latter  arrived.  Senator  Dawes 

426 


The   Mills   of  Man 

meant  to  go  with  his  daughter  as  far  as  Ottawa, 
where  he  would  take  a  branch  road  for  Primrose 
Hill. 

Airs.  Corlis  seated  herself  aboard  the  car  at  an 
open  window.  She  liked  the  crisp  autumn  air  and 
she  could  watch  her  father  on  the  far  end  of  the 
platform,  surrounded  by  a  little  knot  of  sympa 
thetic  politicians.  To  her  they  seemed  rather  dis 
consolate.  She  felt  sick  at  heart;  on  that  radiant 
Sunday  morning  politics  seemed  to  her  inexpressi 
bly  dirty.  She  surmised,  philosophically,  that  busi 
ness  was  quite  as  much  so  when  viewed  from 
within,  and  she,  herself,  had  experienced  kindred 
disgusts  about  society.  This  morning,  however, 
politics  appeared  worse  than  any  other  of  the  hu 
man  activities,  more  base,  more  reptilian.  Besides 
disgust  there  was  anger,  concrete  and  active.  She 
had  borne  all  things  from  her  husband;  this  she 
would  not  bear.  She  wrould  not  sit  quiet  wrhile  he 
played  the  smug  traitor  to  her  father;  she  would 
appeal  directly  to  Uncle  Johnny  and  have  him  set 
matters  right  with  a  high  hand. 

Was  not  that  Chris  Ruggles  whom  she  spied 
yonder  on  the  platform,  standing  by  himself  and 
watching  the  movement?  No  doubt  he  had  come 
do\vn  to  the  station  to  see  if  her  father  got  off  on 
the  train  without  incident.  Catching  his  eye  final 
ly,  she  beckoned  him,  and  as  he  came  forward  she 
smiled  her  pleasure;  his  honest  plainness,  his  open 

427 


The   Mills   of  Man 

eyes,  seemed  so  good  to  her,  so  sound  and  beauti 
ful.  A  draught  of  spring  water  is  elixir  after  a 
night  of  wine. 

"  Do  you  believe  it,  Chris?  " 

She  referred  to  the  telegram  he  had  sent  up  to 
them  last  night  in  the  hotel. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  can't  believe  otherwise,  Mrs. 
Corlis,"  he  answered. 

"  How  is  our  Valkyr?  "  she  asked  suddenly. 

A  painful  flush  suffused  all  his  rugged  face  be 
tween  his  brown  hair  and  reddish  beard. 

"  I  hardly  know,"  he  said  reluctantly;  "  I  have 
not  seen  her  for  months." 

Divination  enlightened  her  in  a  flash. 

"  You  do  not  mean,  Chris,  since  the  time  The 
Pundit  exposed  the  Electric  Consolidated  scheme? 
You  did  not  quarrel  because  you  warned  me?  " 

"  No,  Mrs.  Corlis,  it  was  not  that,"  he  stam 
mered.  Then  unable  to  say  more  he  looked  up  in 
her  face  with  what  woe  in  his  eyes,  what  misery, 
what  heart-loneliness. 

"  Chris,  my  poor  boy,"  she  murmured  impul 
sively. 

"  Oh,"  he  burst  forth,  "  you  don't  know  what  I 
suffer.  I  don't  know  what  to  think,  much  less  to 
do." 

"  Do?  Why,  go  back  to  her — be  a  man !  "  she 
bade  instantly.  "  If  you  suffer,  think  of  her,  how 

428 


The  Mills  of  Man 

much  must  she  suffer.     Chris,  she  is  worse  oft  than 
you." 

"  How  can  I,  Mrs.  Corlis?  Is  there  any  man 
would?  "  Again  he  expressed  his  bare  soul  in  his 
eyes.  "  It's  true  I  love  her;  I've  found  that  out. 
But,  as  you  guess — you  may  know — I've — I've 
learned  about  her — it's  her  past,  years  ago  in  her 
past." 

"Chris,  do  not  judge — don't  dare  judge!" 
She  reached  her  hand  from  the  window  to  clasp 
his  own.  "  Who  are  you  to  arraign  any  woman — 
you,  a  man?  The  people  who  framed  the  morali 
ties,  I'm  sure,  Chris,  never  were  men  of  the 
world;  a  heaven  they  might  have  known,  but  this 
earth,  never." 

He  struck  the  toe  of  his  solid  shoe  against  a 
crack  in  the  boards  of  the  platform. 

"  As  a  generalization,"  he  said,  perplexed  in  his 
soreness,  "that's  all  very  well,  Mrs.  Corlis;  but 
it  hardly  reaches  when — when  one's  self  is  a  spe 
cific  case." 

"  Chris,"  she  ventured  boldly,  "  you  know  who 
I  am — the  wife  of  the  man  who — you  know  what 
I  mean." 

He  quivered  and  gave  her  a  tortured  look. 

"  Yet  you  trust  me,  despite  that ;  you  confide 
all.  Why?" 

"  Because  you  can  be  trusted;  because  you  are 
singularly  noble  and  true." 

429 


The  Mills  of  Man 

"  Yet  I  am  all,  am  I  not,  that  you  naturally  con 
demn.  I  am  rich,  I  am  fashionable,  I  am  frivo 
lous,  not  to  mention  whose  name  I  bear  or  whose 
ambition  I  forward  or  what  business  I  manage." 

"  Nevertheless,  Mrs.  Corlis,  you  and  she  are 
the  noblest  souls  I  have  ever  known  in  this  world." 

"  There,  you've  confessed  it,  Chris.  I  know 
this  world,  I've  had  experience,  if  ever  a  woman 
in  America  has  had.  And  I  tell  you,  Chris,  it  is 
not  a  man's  or  a  woman's  innocence  or  sin,  their 
repentance  or  their  downfall,  their  alleged  saint 
hood  or  their  apparent  criminality,  not  even  what 
they've  done  or  will  do — it's  themselves  that 
count.  As  people  are  born  they  remain,  I've 
found  out — nothing  cures  them,  nothing  debases 
them.  A  mean  soul  is  a  mean  soul  perpetually;  a 
noble  soul  is  elect,  yes,  even  if  it  has  been  dragged 
in  the  mire  and  broken  under  the  wheels  of  this 
world." 

He  had  listened  reverently,  but  now  he  looked 
up  with  a  smile,  and  half  timidly  ventured, 

"  That,  Mrs.  Corlis,  is  John  Calvin  modern 
ized." 

"  I  don't  know  and  I  don't  care,  Chris  Ruggles. 
It  may  not  be  found  in  the  Scriptures,  but  it  is 
eternal  truth  torn  from  the  hard  stone  of  life  by 
my  own  bleeding  fingers." 

This  deliverance  she  had  flashed.  She  added 
more  softly, 

430 


The   Mills   of  Man 

• 

"  Go  back  to  that  sorrowing  woman,  Chris 
Ruggles — go  back,  if  ever  you  want  to  be  more 
than  a  prig  or  a  slave  to  a  code  for  the  code's 
sake.  Remember,  Chris,  what  I  say,  for  it  is  pos 
sible  you  may  not  see  me  again." 

"  Oh,  I  hope  not,"  began  Chris  confusedly. 

'  There  is  Governor  Ransom,"  she  interrupted. 
"  Is  he  leaving  this  morning,  too?  " 

'  Yes,  he  is  going  down  to  Egypt,"  explained 
the  reporter.  "  He  will  go  through  as  much  of  it 
as  possible  like  a  whirlwind  Monday.  I'm  going 
along  for  The  Pundit." 

"  Chris,  you  know  him — go  ask  him  to  step 
here  a  moment — tell  him  Mrs.  Corlis  wants  to 
speak  to  him." 

The  Governor  was  joking  with  a  knot  of  ad 
mirers  in  a  characteristically  undignified  manner. 
She  saw  him  turn  abruptly  wrhen  Chris  spoke,  and 
she  fancied  that  a  look  of  rather  dismayed  surprise 
appeared  in  his  face.  Immediately  he  excused 
himself  to  his  friends.  The  reporter  pointed  out 
the  car  to  him  and  he  walked  towards  her.  Al 
though  he  passed  Senator  Dawes  and  that  group 
within  ten  feet,  no  salutations  were  exchanged. 

Governor  Ransom  approached  the  car  window 
with  a  smile  that  was  a  grin  on  his  worn  face. 
She  suspected  it  was  for  a  mask.  The  dark  eyes, 
shot  with  steel  blue,  she  saw  were  curious.  She 
noticed,  also,  how  completely  gray  the  hair  above 

28  431 


The  Mills  of  Man 

the  high  temples  had  turned  since  she  had  seen 
him  last. 

"  How  d'  do,  Mrs.  Corlis,"  he  greeted  her  in 
homely  fashion.  "  It  seems  to  have  turned  out 
some  different  from  what  we  expected,  but  that 
can't  be  helped,  I  guess." 

The  thin  lips  quivered  humorously,  and  it  was 
evident  that  he  offered  her  a  share  in  his  ironic 
appreciation  of  the  disposal  of  events. 

She  refused.  With  the  instinct  of  a  woman  she 
would  reduce  him  to  gravity. 

"  I  heard  you  last  night,  Governor  Ransom," 
she  said. 

"  Well,  you  didn't  hear  much  but  growls  then, 
Mrs.  Corlis,"  he  smiled.  "  The  people  like  cheap 
thunder,  and  we  have  to  furnish  it,  you  know." 

"  Don't,"  she  said,  as  if  his  lack  of  seriousness 
hurt.  She  added,  "  I  wished  to  say  to  you  what 
I  feel — it  was  the  most  remarkable  speech  I  ever 
heard." 

"  Now,  now,"  he  chided  drolly,  "  that's  laying 
it  on  pretty  thick.  I  only  can  hope  you  weren't  af 
fected  by  my  personalities — it's  reached  the  mud- 
slinging  stage  in  this  campaign — usually  does 
about  this  far  off  from  election  day,  you  know." 
His  eyes  twinkled,  his  face  puckered — he  was  en 
deavoring  to  carry  it  off  facetiously.  "  We  ora 
tors,"  he  swelled  his  chest,  "  we  orators,  you 
know,  revile  each  other  like  lawyers  before  a  jury, 

432 


The   Mills   of  Man 

and  then  go  out  and  take  a  drink  together.'5  He 
chuckled  at  the  ludicrousness  of  the  idea  and  the 
bones  of  his  long  frame  wrapped  themselves  up  in 
a  grotesque  bunch. 

Mrs.  Corlis  smiled  a  bit  in  reciprocity,  but  in 
sisted, 

"  That  is  comical,  Governor  Ransom,  but  I  am 
not  to  be  diverted.  Seriously,  I  believe  you  meant 
every  word  you  said — you  were  sincere,  and  that 
is  why,  for  the  first  time  in  your  life,  you  were 
truly  powerful." 

"  It  must  be  so,  if  you  say  so,"  he  said  sheep 
ishly,  "  but  I  wasn't  aware  of  it  myself.  I'm 
merely  getting  fun  out  of  this  campaign,  between 
you  and  me."  Again  he  tried  to  show  his  humor. 
"  But  here  comes  my  train — " 

She  leaned  out  of  the  car  window.  As  she 
touched  his  hand,  their  eyes  for  an  instant  really 
met. 

"  Good-bye,  Randolph,"  she  said. 

He  flushed  at  the  name. 

"  It's  been  again  a  pleasure,  Victoria,"  he  an 
swered,  and  bowing,  turned  away.  Going,  he 
drawled  across  his  shoulder, 

"  I  forgot  to  say,  I  never  thought  you  knew 
anything  about  the  Electrical  Consolidated  up  at 
Primrose  Hill.  Thought  I'd  tell  you,  when  I  saw 
you,  so  you  wouldn't  think  I  might  Ve.  Good- 
by." 

433 


The   Mills   of  Man 

A  radiant  smile  leaped  into  her  eyes,  which, 
when  he  turned  for  the  last  time  some  fifteen  feet 
away,  he  saw.  All  that  a  look  can  give  in  com 
pensation  for  a  lifetime  of  endurance,  she  offered 
him. 

In  return  she  saw  him  doff  the  comedian,  saw 
him  stand  erect  a  moment,  saw  his  ravaged  face, 
the  tragic  eyes,  the  full  spiritual  stature  of  the 
man. 

He  bowed  like  the  Kentucky  gentleman  he  was 
born. 


434 


XLVI 

MR.  CORLIS  REDUCES  ALL  MEN  TO  A  LEVEL 

MRS.  CORLIS  drove  first  to  the  Auditor 
ium   Annex,    where    J.    J.    J.    had   taken 
rooms;    but  they  told  her  there  that  Mr. 
Jarrett  had  gone  up  to  Lake  Geneva  the  night  be 
fore  to  stay  over  election  day. 

The  news  depressed  her;  she  had  counted  on 
her  Uncle  Johnny.  She  was  feeling  rather  wretch 
edly  anyhow;  the  strain  she  had  been  under  was 
now  telling  on  her,  while  last  night's  shock  had 
sensibly  hurt  her  constantly  decreasing  powers  of 
resistance.  Consequently,  as  she  was  driven  up 
Michigan  Avenue  toward  her  house  on  the  North 
Side,  she  yielded  to  her  disconsolance  and  her 
sickness. 

It  was  a  little  past  noon,  a  fair,  fall  day,  with 
the  semblance  of  gaiety  in  its  color  and  aspect,  but 
tinged,  somehow,  with  melancholy  fore-knowl 
edge  of  winter.  The  churches  were  emptying, 
and,  as  she  looked  out  through  the  doors  of  her 
carriage,  Mrs.  Corlis  saw  well-dressed  people 
sauntering  along  the  sidewalks;  there  were  so 
many  smiles,  and  such  pleasant  looks,  and  all 
seemed,  each  in  his  or  her  harmless,  vain  way,  so 
contented  and  happy. 

435 


The   Mills  of  Man 

The  contrast  of  her  own  state  with  theirs  filled 
her  with  a  dull  pain;  she  even  profoundly  pitied 
herself  for  the  nonce.  She  considered  how  peace 
ful,  pleasant  Sundays  would  follow  one  after  an 
other,  when  she  was  gone;  how  people,  well-to- 
do  people,  would  smile  and  look  pleased,  just  as 
they  were  doing  now.  That  she  would  be  dead 
soon,  she  felt  certain;  excitement  and  new  ideas 
had  conspired  to  make  her  heedless  that  summer, 
but  to-day  she  was  forcibly  reminded  of  her  doom. 

Who  cared  for  her?  Naturally,  not  the  world 
which  she  had  entertained  and  consulted  and 
given  her  most  precious  possessions,  her  soul  and 
her  time;  not  the  one  being  to  whose  ambitions, 
vainglorious  as  they  were,  she  had  sacrificed  the 
convictions  of  her  heart  and  her  longings  for  seri 
ousness  and  truth;  hardly  even  the  few  others, 
whom,  incidentally,  she  had  strengthened  and 
helped.  Oh,  no,  she  could  picture  it  in  advance 
just  as  it  would  be  next  year  at  this  time.  There 
were  her  children  to  grieve  for  her  and  to  forget 
her.  Her  husband — well,  he  might  miss  her;  he 
would,  she  had  been  so  serviceable.  Yet  she  could 
see  him  clearly  just  as  he  would  be  next  year;  he 
loved  life  so  well,  though  he  loved  others  coldly; 
his  senses  were  so  perfect,  so  fitted  to  transmit 
pleasurable  vibrations;  he  had  so  much  health, 
such  an  appetite  for  living.  She  could  see  him  en- 

436 


The   Mills   of  Man 

joying  himself — dinners  and  wines  and  horses  and 
.  That  stung  her. 

She  bowed  down  her  head  and  held  her  tem 
ples  in  her  hands.  No,  only  two  old  men  would 
grieve  much  for  her,  only  two  old  men  would 
continue  to  think  of  her  for  the  few  years  that 
remained  to  each  of  them;  then  she  would  be 
forgotten.  She  could  realize  the  last  years  of 
those  two  old  men,  also.  They  would  be  grayer 
by  this  time  next  year  and  more  bent;  their  old 
friendship  would  have  increased  through  commun 
ity  of  sorrow;  they  would  drive  much  together, 
perhaps,  and  sit  for  hours  smoking.  Perhaps 
Uncle  Johnny  would  go  down  to  Primrose  Hill, 
and,  for  her  sake,  pat  her  old  dogs  on  the  head, 
although  he  did  not  like  dogs.  The  two  old  men 
would  possess  one  staple  of  talk  between  them, — 
Vicky's  ways,  Vicky's  wishes,  all  Vicky's  life  from 
the  time  she  was  a  little  girl  and  their  tyrant. 

She  reached  the  great  house  at  last — the  house 
of  pride,  the  house  she  hated.  Within,  the  furni 
ture  was  all  covered  with  linen,  and  the  pictures 
were  draped;  she  felt  the  aspect  was  that  of  a 
ghost  house  and  she  shuddered.  The  butler  in 
formed  her,  however,  that  her  own  suite  was  pre 
pared.  Mr.  Corlis,  she  was  told,  had  slept  at 
home;  he  had  just  risen  and  was  dressing.  She 
sent  him  a  message  and  went  to  her  own  apart- 

-437 


The   Mills   of  Man 

ments.  In  a  few  minutes  came  Mr.  CorhY  reply; 
he  asked  when  she  would  see  him.  She  sent  back 
word  that  she  would  be  downstairs  in  half  an 
hour. 

She  paced  restlessly  up  and  down  in  the  great 
hall  waiting  for  him  to  appear;  it  irritated  her 
that  he  should  presume  to  be  late.  She  had  put 
on  a  very  plain  walking  suit,  which  had  nothing  to 
relieve  her  pallor.  Indeed,  she  looked  ill  and  un 
lovely,  except  for  her  great,  glowing  eyes. 

She  stopped,  while  she  watched  him  descend. 
He  came  down  the  wide,  carved,  wooden  stair 
case,  putting  down  each  foot  leisurely,  gracefully, 
like  some  steel-sinewed,  delicately-formed  cat. 
His  head  was  high  and  vigorous,  and  the  proud, 
strong  face,  the  elegant  figure,  impressed  the  sus 
ceptible  woman,  as  always,  with  their  sheer  health 
and  masculine  beauty.  After  the  men  and  the 
crowds  she  had  mingled  with  the  last  two  weeks, 
her  husband  appeared  to  her  eyes  the  incompar 
able  aristocrat,  the  gentleman  by  right  divine.  In 
advance  she  felt  the  satisfaction  afforded  by  his 
absolute  flawlessness  as  a  man  of  the  world. 

As  he  came  upon  the  hall  floor,  he  discovered 
her  and  walked  forward.  He  essayed  to  greet  her 
as  usual,  as  he  would  welcome  the  friend  he  most 
respected  and  most  trusted;  he  even  stooped,  with 
inimitable  ease,  over  the  hand  she  extended  him. 
But  he  perceived,  in  an  instant,  the  change  rather 
in  her  air  than  in  her  manner. 

438 


The   Mills   of  Man 

"  Oh,  come,  Victoria,"  he  chided,  half  in  ban 
ter,  half  annoyed,  "  you  do  not  mean  still  to  hold 
old  offenses  over  my  head,  I  hope.  I  confide  in 
your  generosity.  I  am  delighted  to  see  you,  and 
there  is  much  to  tell  that  will  interest  you." 

She  felt  that  he  was  in  full  possession  of  his 
usual  confidence,  and — shall  it  be  said — of  his 
good-natured  contempt.  Moreover,  there  was  a 
certain  charm  in  the  grace  with  which  he  dispensed 
both  that  affected  her,  and  she  was  a  bit  tempted 
to  meet  him  half  way  and  enjoy  an  hour  of  de 
licious  intimacy  as  his  comrade  and  tried  friend. 
He  could  be  so  irresistible. 

But  she  was  stern. 

"  Have  you  seen  this  morning's  Pundit?  "  she 
demanded  almost  immediately. 

The  turquoise-hued  eyes,  so  clear  and  so  shal 
low,  shifted  for  an  instant  under  her  glance. 

'  Yes,"  he  answered,  after  a  pause.  '  You 
mean  McBride  and  me,  I  suppose.  What  do  you 
think  of  it?  "  he  asked  somewhat  jauntily. 

''  I  am  wondering,  Walter,  how  much  of  it  is 
true." 

"Will  you  sit  down?  No?  Well,  would  it 
greatly  shock  you  if  it  were  all  true?  " 

He  meant  to  make  light  of  the  matter,  but  his 
domineering  instinct  where  his  wife  was  con 
cerned,  appeared,  despite  himself,  in  his  voice. 

She  answered  quietly. 

439 


The   Mills   of  Man 

"  I  did  not  think  Mr.  McBride  would  lend  him 
self  to  so  base  a  trick.  He  professed  to  be  my 
friend." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  your  sake,  Victoria,"  said  Mr. 
Corlis,  politely,  adding,  however,  almost  brusque 
ly  the  demand:  "  But  why  do  you  persist  in  hold 
ing  men  and  politicians  down  to  your  sentimental 
conceptions?  It  is  useless;  it's  absurd  for  a 
woman  of  your  knowledge  and  intelligence. 
There  has  never  been  any  sentimental  weakness 
about  the  Cook  County  Machine  that  I'm  aware 
of,  or  for  that  matter  about  me.  Politics  is  war, 
and  war's  what  General  Sherman  said  it  was." 

Mr.  Corlis  looked  bored  and  he  also  assumed 
that  he  was  abused  and  had  good  cause  for  of 
fense. 

But  Mrs.  Corlis  did  not  change  her  attitude. 

"  Then  it  is  true,"  she  said  decisively.  "  Mr. 
McBride  planned  the  treachery  and  you  acqui 
esced." 

"Treachery!"  he  echoed.  "You,  Victoria, 
have  played  politics  yourself;  you're  no  novice." 

He  held  himself  rigidly,  but  the  half-suppressed 
sneer  under  his  close-cropped  mustache  was  ugly 
to  see. 

She  stiffened  to  her  full  height  and  looked  him 
directly  in  the  eye. 

"  If  McBride  and  his  hoodlums  play  Irish 
440 


The   Mills   of  Man 

tricks,  that  is  one  thing,"  she  announced.  "  But 
you,  sir,  are  supposably  a  gentleman,  and  you 
break  honor,  if  you  betray  my  father." 

He  bowed  as  if  before  some  unreasonable  ca 
price  of  an  imperious,  petted  child.  With  a  smile 
of  malice  he  answered, 

"  I  might  plead  in  palliation  of  my  treachery, 
Victoria,  the  Senator's  own  high  example.  I  fancy 
he  has  about  illustrated  every  known  trick  in  the 
course  of  his  career;  he  has  deserted  many  a  man 
at  the  eleventh  hour." 

'  You  are  not  excused,"  she  said  coldly. 

"  Have  you  not  read  Governor  Ransom's 
speech,  also,  in  The  Pundit  this  morning?"  he 
questioned  in  retort. 

"  I  heard  part  of  it,"  she  said. 

'  Then  I  recommend  you  to  read  the  remain 
der." 

The  evil  fascination  of  his  insinuation  charmed 
her  as  the  hissing  head  of  a  serpent  might  have 
done.  He  took  a  newspaper  from  his  pocket  and 
unfolded  it. 

"  Look,  here  on  the  first  page,"  he  bade. 
''  Ransom  charges  the  saintly  Senator  with  lulling 
him  into  inaction  by  false  representations,  of  be 
guiling  him  with  lies.  He  declares  the  Senator 
knew  all  the  time  about  the  Electrical  Consoli 
dated,  and  yet  the  Senator  gave  the  Governor  his 
word  at  Primrose  Hill,  nay,  wrote  it  out,  that 

441 


The   Mills  of  Man 

there  was  no  such  scheme  behind  the  combination 
that  controlled  the  Convention." 

"  I'll  not  believe  it,"  gasped  Mrs.  Corlis. 
"  My  father  knew  nothing  of  it.  It  was  I  who 
knew,  if  any  one,  and  I  didn't  realize  it." 

"  Good  thing  you  didn't,"  sneered  Corlis,  "  or 
you  might  have  stirred  Ransom  up  instead  of 
coaxing  him  to  sit  still." 

"  You  utter  brute,"  she  said,  shuddering. 

"  Well,  you  see,  Victoria,  you  are  no  better 
than  us  all — you  get  things  done,  too.  As  for 
your  reverend  parent,"  he  set  his  square  chin  firm 
ly,  "  Mr.  Jarrett  wanted  your  father  let  in  on  the 
ground  floor.  I  didn't  like  it  myself,  but  Mr. 
Jarrett  insisted.  The  Senator  was  offered  stock,  I 
know,  and  I  don't  know  that  he  refused,  though 
I'm  willing  to  do  him  the  justice  to  say  it  would  be 
just  like  his  quixotic  hypocrisy  to  refuse." 

She  drooped  her  head  and  a  low  moan  came 
through  her  colorless  lips. 

"  I  don't  mean  to  be  too  hard  on  you,  Victoria." 
Mr.  Corlis  made  his  sort  of  amends.  "  Come,  do 
be  a  good  fellow ;  we  get  on  so  famously  together 
when  you  are.  You  must  see  there  is  no  use  in  try 
ing  to  jack  me  up  to  your  reform  notions.  Every 
game  has  its  rules.  The  Senator's  scruples  I  don't 
believe  would  allow  him  to  accept  stock;  but  he 
didn't  kick  a  bit  about  taking  Ransom  in.  Every 
man,  I've  noticed,  is  unimpeachable,  outside  his 
own  game."  442 


M 


XLVII 

J.  J.  J.  ISSUES  ORDERS 

EBBE    you'll    condescend    to    notice    me, 
you're  such  a  noticin'  feller." 

J.  J.  J.  stepped  between  the  two;  he 
held  out  his  hand  to  his  niece,  but  he  looked 
straight  at  Corlis. 

"  Uncle  Johnny!  "  she  cried  in  a  whisper. 

He  turned  his  great  head  in  her  direction,  and 
nodded,  reassuringly. 

"  Yes,  Vicky,  I'm  here  to  fix  things." 

Corlis  had  not  said  a  word;  he  had  not  so 
much  as  moved.  He  believed  in  Napoleon's 
maxim  about  doing  nothing  when  you  don't  know 
what  to  do.  Besides,  his  attention  was  concen 
trated  upon  maintaining  an  easy  posture  and  an 
unperturbed  exterior  in  what  he  foresaw  would  be 
a  difficult  experience. 

J.  J.  J.  turned  upon  the  man  a  second  time. 

"  I  came  down  this  morning  from  Wisconsin," 
he  said,  in  his  soft  voice.  "  I  saw  it  in  The  Pundit 
and  I  came  down  to  find  out  from  you." 

"Had  you  not  better  ask  McBride?"   Corlis 

443 


The   Mills   of  Man 

replied  placidly.  "  He  is  running  the  campaign  in 
Chicago;  he's  responsible." 

"  I  ask  you,"  said  the  magnate  directly. 

Corlis  took  two  or  three  steps  to  the  side.,  but  he 
felt  those  terribly  penetrating  eyes  following  him. 

"  If  it  were  true,"  he  contended,  "  it  is  not  all 
my  funeral." 

"  Come  up !  "  bade  J.  J.  J.  following  him. 
11  Don't  play  the  baby  act!  "  He  broke  into  a 
sudden  rage.  "  By  God,  I'll  have  the  truth,  if  I 
have  to  tear  it  out  of  you." 

He  swung  his  long  arms  at  his  side  and  con 
fronted  Corlis.  The  great  head  with  its  mane,  the 
large  ears  that  stuck  out,  the  wide  shoulders  and 
the  immense  chest,  combined  to  give  him  a  gro 
tesque  but  terrible  aspect.  Had  he  not  been,  in 
deed,  so  compact  a  force,  so  incarnate  a  power,  he 
had  almost  seemed  ridiculous.  As  it  was  Corlis 
recoiled;  that  terrific  glance  cut  him  to  the  bone. 

'  You  agreed ;  you  were  privy  to  the  plan ;  you 
played  traitor  and  sneak,  you  with  McBride," 
shrilled  the  old  man.  "  By  God,  is  it  not  so?" 
The  clenched  fist  in  his  face  made  Corlis  for  a  sec 
ond  apprehensive  of  a  blow7. 

It  was  a  prolonged  moment  before  he  answered 
— in  that  moment  he  glanced  sidelong  at  his  wife. 

She  stood  apart,  a  spectator,  her  crossed  hands 
gathered  at  her  throat,  her  head  bent  forward  a 
trifle,  her  eyes,  under  half-fallen  lids,  mtently 

444 


The   Mills   of  Man 

watching.  He  understood  in  a  flash  what  it  was 
she  was  watching — to  observe  how  he  bore  the 
test,  to  learn  if,  after  all,  he  were  a  great  man. 

But  he  had  to  make  answer  at  once. 

"  I  suppose  it's  not  far  wrong,  Mr.  Jarrett,"  he 
commenced,  half  apologetically;  "there  is,  no 
doubt,  more  or  less  truth  in  what  The  Pundit — " 

"  Make  a  plain  man  a  plain  answer,"  J.  J.  J. 
ordered,  sharply. 

'What  can  I  say?"  asked  Corlis  desperately. 
"  As  you  insist,  here  is  the  exact  dilemma :  Is  the 
whole  ticket  to  go  down  in  total  defeat,  or  may  we 
save  a  part  from  the  general  wreck?  Senator 
Dawes  is  hopelessly  beaten  anyhow,  and  if  beaten, 
it  doesn't  matter  by  how  much  or  how  little.  Mc- 
Bride  and  I  have  been  figuring  upon  some  facts  as 
they  are,  that  is  all." 

He  faced  J.  J.  J.  with  a  quiet  smile  as  he  fin 
ished,  as  if  asking  him  where  lay  the  fault. 

"You  can't  flim-flam  the  old  man,  Corlis;  so 
quit  trying,"  said  J.  J.  J.  unimpressed.  u  I  want 
none  of  your  explanations;  you  did  the  thing; 
that's  all  I  want  to  know." 

And  he  turned  his  back  and  went  over  to  his 
niece. 

'  I  knew  there  was  something  loose,  Vicky;  I 
told  you  so  on  the  train.  Are  you  glad  to  have 
your  old  Uncle  Johnny  on  deck  here  right  in 
time?" 

445 


The   Mills   of  Man 

She  leaned  her  aching  head  down  on  the  old 
man's  shoulder.  She  was  inexpressibly  sad  and 
weary  and  it  was  an  indescribable  boon  to  be  al 
lowed  to  give  up  and  to  rely  on  him. 

"  Oh,  Uncle  Johnny,"  she  whispered,  "  you're 
so  strong  and  so  true." 

Corlis  felt  his  isolation,  and  the  whole  scene 
seemed  to  him  rather  ridiculous.  He  wished  to 
end  it,  to  cut  short  his  experience  of  inferiority. 
He  began  an  explanation,  which  if  unconvincing, 
might  at  least  open  a  way  of  egress. 

''  What,  pray,  do  you  expect  in  politics?  I  only 
do  what  they  all  do.  I  played  for  my  own  hand, 
which  is  precisely  what  the  Senator  has  done  all 
his  life  and  which  accounts  for  his  success.  Be 
sides,  am  I  bound  to  sacrifice  all  my  chances  to 
Senator  Dawes,  especially  when  his  last  chance  is 
gone  ?  " 

J.  J.  J.  threw  up  his  head. 

"  Not  bound — not  bound  to  this  family !  " 

"  No,  not  in  that  way,"  demurred  Corlis,  sulk- 
ily. 

'  You're  bound  in  all  ways,"  roared  J.  J.  J. 
'  This  family  made  you,  took  you  a  clerk  and 
made  you  somebody.  Who  are  you,  anyway? 
You've  no  great  ability  that  I've  ever  discovered; 
you  can  sit  on  the  top  of  my  wood-pile,  but  you 
never  could  have  cut  timber  yourself;  you're  too 

446 


The   Mills   of  Man 

lazy  and  too  plumb  ornamental."  He  would  have 
continued,  but  his  niece's  hand  stopped  his  mouth. 

"  Nevertheless,  I  fancy  I  am  still  my  own  mas 
ter  in  a  few  things,"  said  Corlis  stubbornly. 

"  No,  damn  you,  you  ain't,"  the  old  man  broke 
out.  "  You're  my  man  and  I'll  show  you."  He 
shook  his  clenched  fist  at  Corlis;  the  other  arm 
was  about  Mrs.  Corlis'  waist.  "  You've  needed  a 
good  dressing  down  for  a  long  time  and  I  guess 
it's  come  now  good  and  proper.  You  get  into  the 
carriage  out  there  and  go  hunt  up  your  friend  Mc- 
Bride.  Bring  him  'round  to  the  Annex  to  see  me; 
I'll  be  there  in  half  an  hour.  See  you  get  him,  if 
it  takes  you  all  day.  And  bring  yourself  with 
him." 

"  But  suppose  he  refuses,"  excepted  Corlis,  to 
save  himself  from  the  indignity  of  a  prompt  obe 
dience. 

"  You  put  it  to  him;  you  know  how,"  directed 
J.  J.  J.  "  You  bring  him,  or  I'll  hold  you  re 
sponsible." 

"  But  if  I  refuse  to  be  your  messenger?"  gasped 
Corlis,  in  an  excess  of  vexation. 

"  Wish  you  would,"  snapped  the  magnate. 
"  But  you're  too  damned  calculating,  I  guess." 
And  the  man  of  power  turned  his  back  on  his  min 
ion,  his  whole  attention  absorbed  in  solacing  his 
niece. 

Corlis  glared  ineffectually  at  the  back  of  the 

447 

29 


The   Mills   of  Man 

despot,  something  like  rage  convulsing  his  fea 
tures.  But  he  sternly  composed  himself,  summon 
ing  his  philosophy,  instructing  himself  to  be  wise, 
since  this  one  man  he  could  not  bully.  Almost  all 
others  he  could. 

"  Well,  I'm  off  downtown,"  he  finally  an 
nounced,  but  neither  his  wife  nor  her  uncle  ap 
peared  to  hear  him.  "  I'll  do  as  you  wish,  Mr. 
Jarrett,  though  I  must  say  it's  not  politics,  it's 
woman's  folly." 

With  which  last  spiteful  speech  he  went  out, 
like  a  boy  persuading  himself  he  was  agreeing  to 
do  what  he  was  compelled  to  do. 

Before  J.  J.  J.  departed  for  the  Annex,  Mrs. 
Corlis  said  pleadingly: 

"  Don't  be  too  hard  on  him,  Uncle  Johnny; 
remember,  I  don't  want  you  to  be." 

Mr.  Jarrett  shook  his  head. 

"He  needs  a  trimming,  Vicky;  it'll  do  him 
good.  It's  only  his  conceit  that's  going  to  get 
hurt  any." 


448 


I 


XLVIII 

TWO  MEN  AND  A  GENTLEMAN 

DEALISTS  alone  refuse  to  recognize  sover 
eigns.  Even  in  this  early  day  the  practical 
American,  having  discovered  who  is  sovereign, 
uncovers  before  him;  therefore,  McBride,  when 
Mr.  Corlis  brought  him  to  the  hotel  late  in  the 
afternoon,  was  subdued  in  his  manner,  not  to  say 
self-deprecatory. 

The  magnate  did  not  rise;  he  did  not  even  offer 
his  hand;  he  only  nodded  and  motioned  to  two 
chairs  set  before  his  own,  perhaps  four  feet  away. 
Mr.  Corlis  and  the  Boss  sat  down;  somehow 
neither  had  anything  to  say. 

J.  J.  J.  did  not  bestir  himself  or  hasten  to  speak. 
He  looked  hard  at  McBride  and  in  turn  at  Corlis. 
"  Hum  !  "  he  ejaculated  saturninely,  and  then  hung 
his  head  sidewise  and  ruminated.  He  combed  his 
loose  whiskers  with  his  strong  fingers  the  while. 

Corlis  ventured  to  remark, 

"I  had  trouble  finding  Mr.  McBride;  but  I 
told  him  you  wanted  to  see  him  and  couldn't  wait." 

No  response  was  vouchsafed. 

"  I  just  dropped  everything,  Mr.  Jarrett,  and 
come  right  along,"  explained  the  Boss  propitiat- 
ingly.  He  looked  into  his  hat. 

449 


The   Mills   of  Man 

The  magnate's  scrutiny  was  again  turned  on  the 
pair,  each  of  whom  felt  it. 

"  Hum,  what's  your  idea  of  this  whole  matter, 
McBride?  "  at  last  he  asked  suddenly. 

'What  do  I  think?"  repeated  the  Boss  nerv 
ously. 

"  That's  what  I  want  to  learn,"  J.  J.  J.  nodded. 

u  I  think  it's  a  mighty  bad  bizness,"  admitted 
McBride. 

The  magnate  smiled.     It  was  a  hard  smile. 

''  I  didn't  expect  anything  different  from  you, 
McBride — you  acted  after  your  own  kind.  You 
Irish  I've  always  found  to  be  sentimental  as 
women  and  treacherous  as  Comanches." 

McBride  shifted  in  his  seat. 

"  Bizness  is  bizness,"  he  muttered  testily. 

"  Let's  get  to  it,  then,"  bade  the  money-master 
ominously.  "  What  I  want  to  know  is  whether 
you  still  are  bent  on  your  scheme  of  sacrificing  the 
legislative  ticket  for  Corlis  here.  Are  you?  " 

"  Why  not?  "  asked  McBride.  His  head  was 
low,  he  could  not  bear  that  gaze;  but  so  is  a  bull's 
head  low  when  he  sets  his  wrinkled  neck  to  contest 
a  charge.  "  Why  not?  "  repeated  the  Boss. 

"  I  furnished  the  money  for  your  campaign," 
answered  J.  J.  J. 

"  So  as  to  elect  Corlis  governor,"  amended  Mc 
Bride. 

450 


The   Mills   of  Man 

"  Not  before  the  Senator,"  excepted  the  mag 
nate. 

"  That  ain't  practical  any  more,  as  things  have 
turned  out,"  asserted  the  Boss  stolidly.  "  The 
Senator's  beat  anyhow.  Organization's  a  good 
thing,  Mr.  Jarrett,  and  your  money  '11  go  a  long 
way;  but,  when  the  people  gets  up  on  their  hind 
legs,  I'm  tellin'  you,  there  ain't  nothin'  this  side  of 
God  Almighty  can  stop  'em." 

"  Can't  you  throw  over  Corlis  and  save  Senator 
Dawes?  That's  only  t'other  way  about,  I  guess," 
insisted  J.  J.  J.  "  I'll  subscribe  unlimitedly  to  that 
proposition." 

The  Boss  was  either  taken  aback  or  he  was  nim 
ble  and  affected  to  be. 

"  You  don't  mean  it?  "  he  quavered. 

;'  I  do,"  said  the  magnate. 

"  But  it  ain't  practical,"  objected  McBride.  "  A 
United  States  Senator  don't  benefit  us  any,  but  a 
governor — he  interests  the  boys." 

J.  J.  J.  ruminated.     At  last  he  said, 

"  See  here,  McBride,  I  don't  know  a  lot  about 
politics,  except  that  it's  a  skin  game ;  but  I  went 
into  this  to  reelect  Dawes  and  I  mean  to  get  my 
money's  worth  back.  Corlis  here  asked  me  to  enter 
your  Electrical  Consolidated.  I  agreed;  but  I 
made  clear  to  him  he  must  help  the  Senator  before 
all  things." 


The   Mills  of  Man 

"I  never  so  understood  it,  excuse  me,"  de 
murred  Mr.  Corlis,  meekly  yet  firmly. 

Jarrett  quelled  him  with  a  look. 

"  Corlis  ain't  as  big  a  fool  as  he'd  like  to  make 
out,  McBride,"  said  J.  J.  J.  drily.  "  That  was 
the  understanding,  McBride,"  he  continued.  "  I'll 
put  it  stronger;  they  were  my  orders.  If  they 
weren't  spoken  plain,  Corlis,  you  ought  to  have 
read  'em  plain — for  I  don't  tolerate  numskulls  for 
men  around  me.  So  the  long  and  short  of  it  is, 
you  disobeyed  orders — he  tried  to  fool  me,  Mc 
Bride.  Tell  me,  you've  got  sense,  do  I  look  like 
a  man  to  be  monkeyed  with?  " 

"  No,  not  exactly,"  admitted  the  Boss  humor 
ously.  "  But,  excuse  me,  as  the  candidate,  Corlis 
has  got  obligations  to  the  party,  to  the  boys,  as 
well  as  to  you,  Mr.  Jarrett.  His  manager  has  got 
somethin'  to  say;  he  ain't  bossin'  the  campaign 
and  adornin'  the  ticket  all  in  one  breath,  you  bet." 

u  I  know  nothing  about  his  obligations  to  you, 
and  I  don't  care."  J.  J.  J.  indulged  in  results,  not 
in  scruples.  "  But  what's  your  forecast;  let's  hear 
your  estimate." 

"  We  expect  to  carry  Cook  County  by  40,000," 
replied  the  Boss.  "  There's  no  countin'  on  the 
state;  Ransom's  got  it  by  from  ten  to  fifty  thou 
sand  anywhere;  it'll  be  a  slump,  sure." 

"  Hum !  "  mused  J.  J.  J.  "  Then,  as  close  as 
I  can  figure,  Corlis'  chance  is  a  slim  one,  even 

452 


The   Mills  of  Man 

though  you  cut  everything  to  benefit  him.  Am  I 
right?" 

"  To  get  down  to  bizness,  you  are  so,  Mr.  Jar- 
rett;  but  he's  promised  to  recognize  the  organiza 
tion  when  he  gets  down  to  Springfield,  and  that 
goes  with  us." 

"  Look  here,  McBride,"  said  J.  J.  J.  slowly, 
"  you  won't  elect  Corlis.  How  many  members  of 
the  legislature  could  you  save  for  the  Senator  here 
in  Chicago,  if  you  wanted  to,  say  mighty  badly?  " 

"  Half  a  dozen,  mebbe  more,"  answered  the 
Boss,  promptly. 

"  Then  do  it,"  bade  the  magnate.  "  Corlis  ain't 
my  man  any  more ;  he  doesn't  represent  my  inter 
ests  a  moment  longer,  you  understand.  When  you 
back  him,  you  take  him  minus  me.  And  I  tell  you 
flat,  if  you  are  expecting  the  city  railways  to  deal 
with  you  in  the  future  as  in  the  past,  you've  got 
to  get  down  and  do  your  damnedest  for  the  Sen 
ator." 

His  glittering  eyes  drove  home  the  significance 
of  what  he  said. 

"How  does  that  strike  you,  McBride?"  he 
asked  drily. 

"  Pretty  well,"  admitted  the  Boss.  "  I  guess  I'll 
agree,  Mr.  Jarrett.  Corlis  ain't  got  much  chance 
anyhow;  and,  come  to  think  of  it,  a  governor 
down  in  Springfield  without  the  legislature 
wouldn't  do  us  half  as  much  good  as  you  can  do 

453 


The   Mills   of  Man 

us  harm  up  here  in  Chicago,  Mr.  Jarrett.  I  guess 
you  mean  what  you  say."  McBride  looked  quiz 
zical. 

"  Count  on  it,"  said  J.  J.  J.  "  And  I  have  your 
word,  have  I,  McBride?" 

"  I  guess  so,  Mr.  Jarrett."  The  Boss  sighed. 
"  Of  course,  you  ain't  supposin'  Cook  County  by 
itself  is  goin'  to  fix  it  for  the  Senator.  We'll  do 
all  we  can,  and  mebbe  there's  a  chance;  but  Ran 
som's  got  things  in  a  terrible  stew  down  the  state." 

J.  J.  J.  relaxed.  Except  for  his  eyes  and  the 
movements  of  his  neck  he  had  sat  as  immobile  as 
an  Indian  chief;  but  now  a  satisfied  smile  spread 
across  his  visage  and  he  rubbed  his  hands. 

"  Now  what  do  you  propose  to  do  with  Corlis 
here,  McBride?  "  he  asked,  innocently. 

"  Leave  him  drop,"  replied  the  Boss  succinctly. 

The  magnate  fixed  his  scrutiny  upon  Corlis,  who 
with  a  look  of  boredom  in  his  handsome  face 
awaited  the  issue. 

"  You're  not  a  fool,"  J.  J.  J.  announced;  "  you 
can  see  things.  You  know  it  wouldn't  help  you  to 
make  a  fuss.  And  I  guess  you  can  measure  up 
what  you  amount  to,  too;  I  guess  it'll  kind  of  do 
you  good.  And,  mebbe,  if  you  behave  well  and 
take  your  medicine  like  a  little  man,  we'll  perhaps 
do  something  for  you,  later  on." 

Corlis  smiled;  the  correct,  unmeaning  smile  of 
the  imperturbable  man  of  the  world. 

454 


The   Mills   of  Man 

"  I'm  a  good  loser,  Mr.  Jarrett,  you  will  find." 

"  You'd  better  be,"  grunted  McBride,  rising 
from  his  chair.  "  And,  now  we  ain't  partners  no 
more,  I'll  just  tell  Mr.  Jarrett  what's  been  the 
trouble  all  along."  The  Boss  pointed  his  big 
thumb  backwards  to  indicate  Corlis  to  the  mag 
nate.  "  He's  got  the  big-head,  got  it  bad." 

"Leave  him  to  me;  I'll  attend  to  his  case." 
And  J.  J.  J.  rubbed  his  hands. 

Corlis  shut  his  teeth;  he  had  to  grind  them  to 
repress  his  rage.  His  spirit  had  always  cowered 
before  J.  J.  J.;  but  to  have  his  shame  uncovered 
before  the  Irish  Boss,  whom  he  regarded  as  an  in 
ferior,  infuriated  him. 

Yet,  when  McBride  was  gone,  he  made  no  pro 
test.  He  accepted  like  a  well-bred  man,  when  he 
is  helpless,  whatever  indignities  plebeians  were  dis 
posed  to  put  upon  him. 

"  I  always  knew  you  hated  me,"  was  all  he  said 
to  Mr.  Jarrett. 

"  I  did  not,"  answered  J.  J.  J.  judicially.  "  I 
disliked  what  I  thought  you  might  be,  and  it's 
turned  out  that's  what  you  are." 

And  the  old  man  bent  on  Corlis  a  scrutiny  so 
powerful,  so  fixed,  that  the  latter  sat  fascinated, 
as  in  a  spell.  He  felt  as  if  a  still,  strong  light 
were  penetrating  his  flesh,  searching  the  recesses 
of  his  soul.  The  bewitchment  grew  upon  him,  he 
was  obsessed;  those  eyes  that  bound  him  became 

455 


The   Mills  of  Man 

his  own  wife's  eyes,  the  dark,  true  eyes  he  knew— 
only  they  were  no  longer  fond,  nor  generous,  nor 
forgiving  to  him,  now;  instead  they  were  without 
illusion  and  they  probed — they  probed.  To  them 
never  more  could  he  pose,  vaingloriously — they 
knew  him  for  a  sham,  a  spurious  great  man,  a  vain 
pretender. 

;'  This  world  grinds  coarse,"  said  J.  J.  J.,  "  but 
it  grinds,  I  guess." 


XLIX 

AN  EDITORIAL 

rHE  PUNDIT  of  Wednesday  morning,  the 
day  after  election  day,  contained  a  leading 
editorial,  written  by  MacPherson  himself. 

"  Governor  Ransom,  rather  than  the  Demo 
cratic  party,  has  swept  the  state.  He  forced  the 
issue  upon  the  people,  if  he  did  not  name  the  can 
didate.  He  brought  to  the  support  of  Gustave 
Schwab  the  decisive  minority,  if  he  did  not  furnish 
the  solid  support.  Riding  the  Free  Silver  war- 
horse,  the  redoubtable  spoilsman  has  reversed  all 
the  political  precedents  of  Illinois,  and,  after  re 
nouncing  his  party  and  leading  a  crusade  against 
it,  he  finds  himself  stronger  than  ever,  the  idol  of 
Egypt  and  the  trusted  leader  of  many  who  had  al 
ways  regarded  him  askance. 

;'  We  suspect  that  two  years  hence,  Randolph 
Ransom  will  become  the  presidential  nominee  of 
the  new  party,  which,  whatever  it  call  itself,  will 
represent  the  new  issue. 

"  But  as  for  the  state.  Governor  Ransom  has 
both  revenged  himself  and  achieved  a  solid  vic 
tory.  He  alone,  in  a  period  of  forty  years,  has  had 
the  good-fortune  or  the  good  skill  to  unhorse  Sen- 

457 


The   Mills   of  Man 

ator  Dawes.  '  Uncle  Simeon  '  has  somehow  sur 
vived  many  conflicts,  also  many  friends.  His  ene 
mies,  heretofore,  have  always  been  beaten,  his 
friends  effectually  used  and  used  up.  At  last  he 
has  been  out-generaled  and  out-fought  by  a  former 
lieutenant,  whom  he  attempted  to  hoodwink.  Gov 
ernor  Ransom  has  been  devoted  to  Senator  Dawes; 
but  he  objected  to  being  kept  neutral  while  his 
enemies  within  the  party  usurped  his  place.  He 
objected  to  being  sacrificed  to  Corlis  and  McBride 
in  order  that  Senator  Dawes  might  be  reflected  to 
the  Senate.  We  don't  blame  him. 

"  As  for  Walter  H.  D.  Corlis,  he  was  a  danger 
ous  possibility  in  Illinois.  He  was  showy,  vain 
glorious,  with  the  aspect  of  respectability  and  the 
unscrupulousness  of  a  highwayman.  He  has  abil 
ity;  but  he  is  the  sort  of  cool  and  complacent  in 
dividual  who  is  generally  overrated.  His  bubble 
is  pricked  for  good. 

"  McBride  still  remains.  He  will  remain.  Such 
monstrous  parasites  as  he  are  not  to  be  exter 
minated.  True,  the  limits  of  his  authority  are 
now  marked  and  defined;  his  bailiwick  marches 
and  ends  with  Cook  County,  but  inside  he  is  still 
Chicago's  Black  Boss. 

'  The  Democracy  seems  to  appreciate  its  debt 
to  the  great  champion  of  Free  Silver,  the  great  foe 
of  the  power  of  money.  It  had  better.  It  can't 
chance  on  such  a  leader  more  than  once  in  two 

458 


The   Mills  of  Man 

decades.  He  is  a  despot  by  temperament  and  a 
demagogue  by  art,  and  at  last  he  has  joined  the 
crowd  who  like  to  be  bossed  and  love  to  be  fooled. 
The  Pundit  never  liked  Randolph  Ransom  and 
does  not  believe  in  him  now.  But  The  Pundit  can 
recognize  brains  when  it  sees  them,  and  in  that 
especial  particular  never  underrated  Governor 
Ransom. 

"  He  can  be  chosen  Senator  this  winter  to  suc 
ceed  Senator  Dawes,  if  he  chooses.  We  advise 
him  to  resist  the  seduction.  He  will,  if  he  be  wise. 
If  he  is  wise,  he  will  content  himself  with  remain 
ing  the  manager  and  master-spirit  of  the  Silver 
movement,  with  cementing  the  factions,  with  forg 
ing  a  machine  for  himself  (and  he  is  an  expert  at 
the  business),  so  that  he  may  be  in  a  position  to 
demand  and  receive  at  the  hands  of  the  next  Dem 
ocratic  National  Convention  that  recognition  to 
which  his  personality  and  his  services  entitle  him. 

"The  Pundit  neither  approves  of  Governor  Ran 
som  nor  sanctions  his  mental  processes;  yet  wel 
comes  the  opportunity  of  crossing  swords  with  a 
man  of  no  mean  ability,  no  mediocre  talent." 

Such  was  The  Pundit's  summation  of  the  elec 
tion's  results.  It  was  not  far  wrong. 

Corlis  carried  Chicago  and  Cook  County  by 
nearly  ten  thousand  votes;  but  J.  J.  J.'s  interfer 
ence  cost  him  at  least  ten  thousand  votes.  Middle 
and  upper  Illinois,  usually  Republican,  gave,  in  allf 

459 


The   Mills   of  Man 

scarcely  two  thousand  plurality  for  the  ticket. 
Thus  Egypt  was  left  to  confront  Chicago  and  the 
exact  vote  in  her  back  districts  was  slow  in  com 
ing  in. 

But  there  was  no  need  to  await  the  back  dis 
tricts  ;  Egypt  had  confirmed  her  faith  in  Ransom's 
leadership  by  an  immense  majority — so  much  was 
apparent  by  midnight  of  election  day.  Governor 
Ransom  had  spent  the  day  before,  Monday,  in 
making  passionate  last  appeals  from  the  tail-end  of 
a  train  at  some  thirty  points  in  that  benighted 
"  neck  of  the  woods."  And  Egypt  had  rallied  to 
his  call;  she  returned  a  Democratic  plurality  like 
those  before  the  war;  she  overwhelmed  Chicago's 
ten  thousand  plurality  with  one  of  twenty-seven 
thousand.  Ransom  buried  the  man  he  hated  under 
an  adverse  plurality  of  fifteen  thousand  votes. 


460 


FINALITIES 

CHRISTOPHER  RUGGLES  was  set  down 
in  Chicago  soon  after  four  o'clock  of  a  raw 
November  day.  He  had  come  up  from 
Springfield  whence  he  had  returned  with  Governor 
Ransom  after  the  last-day  dash  through  Egypt. 
Election  was  over  and  to-morrow  he  would  be  ex 
pected  to  report  at  the  Pundit  office  and  resume 
local  work. 

He  left  the  ugly  railway  station,  emerging  upon 
the  streets.  The  same  sullen,  uncomfortable  crowd 
swarmed  on  the  sidewalks,  the  same  monstrous 
traffic  choked  the  roadways.  The  walls  of  the 
"  sky-scrapers  "  ran  up  like  sheer  cliffs,  the  tops 
wreathed  in  vapors  of  cold  smoke  that  the  lake 
wind  wound  and  unwound  about  the  pinnacles, 
drove  in  dense  sheets  down  into  the  abysses  called 
streets,  or  tossed  up  in  thick  folds  until  they  en 
shrouded  the  sky. 

Ruggles  saw  what  he  was  used  to;  but  it  hurt 
him  more  than  usual.  It  was  tremendous,  no 
doubt;  but  it  was  ugly  as  well.  The  tide  flowed 
about  those  topping  hulks  of  steel  and  stone,  and 
strongly  in  and  out  through  all  the  crevices — a 

461 


The   Mills   of  Man 

vast  and  heedless  force,  propelled,  as  it  were,  by 
some  heartless  monster  of  a  machine  that  pulsed  a 
constant  motion,  oblivious  of  any  chance  individual 
destruction  that  might  occur. 

He  wondered  and  admired,  as  he  had  a  thou 
sand  times  before — as  he  admired  Niagara.  To 
day,  in  addition,  he  hated  it,  feeling  on  bare  nerves 
its  whole  ruthlessness  and  barbarity;  the  swing  of 
the  heavy  whip  upon  the  flanks  of  the  overloaded 
horses  cut  him  to  the  quick;  the  human  faces,  flac 
cid  with  an  old  indifference  to  defeat,  or  agonizing 
in  a  fresh  despair,  filled  him  with  a  sick  pity.  And 
those  other  human  faces,  hard  and  energetic, 
seamed  with  fraud  or  inflamed  with  greed,  the 
faces  of  the  conquerors,  them  he  loathed. 

What  disillusion,  indeed,  the  reality  of  life  had 
brought  to  a  sentimental  thinker  who,  in  his  first 
youth,  had  believed  men  noble,  society  swayed  by 
some  great  Justice,  the  universe  moving  upward  to 
some  mystic,  moral  end !  Poor  soul,  Humor  never 
served  as  hand-maid  to  his  reason;  his  nerves  were, 
perforce,  victimized  by  his  serious  genus. 

He  walked  now  along  the  streets.  It  was  the 
hour  when  a  multitude  of  toilers  are  let  out  the 
rookeries,  freed  from  the  machines.  Girls  by  hun 
dreds  sought  the  cable  cars  and  elevated  stations; 
the  chill  wind  searched  them  keenly,  while  male 
animals  of  prey  watched  for  an  exposed  ankle  or 
the  outline  of  a  bust.  Ruggles  boiled;  he  felt 


The  Mills  of  Man 

himself  a  rebel  against  Nature.  These  wretched 
creatures,  so  illy  nourished,  so  feebly  willed,  how 
could  they  withstand,  when  hard-pushed  by  cruel 
circumstances?  Yet  each  was  a  woman  and, 
therefore,  pitiful. 

The  early  winter  gloom  shut  down  and  a  million 
globes  of  light  made  filmy  circles  in  the  obscurity. 
Ruggles  plodded  on.  Where  should  he  go?  He 
owned  no  inclination  that  pointed  anywhere.  He 
was  a  man,  alone,  minus  the  web  of  relationships 
which  knitted  others,  rich  and  poor  alike,  to  the 
social  scheme.  He  was  removed  by  "  culture,"  by 
experience  of  the  mind,  from  participation  in  the 
unthinking  life  of  the  masses,  while  other  causes 
forbade  the  merging  of  his  loneliness  in  the  higher 
existence  of  the  few.  That  he  realized  the  pecu 
liarity  of  his  isolation  was  characteristic  of  the 
man;  he  knew,  also,  how  many  in  the  gigantic  city 
repeated  his  own  case.  He  was  stifling  for  the 
oxygen  of  real  companionship,  although  two  mil 
lion  human  beings  fluttered  about  him  in  a  tumult 
every  day. 

Card  had  been  delayed  in  her  office;  it  was 
after  six  as  she  came  down  in  the  elevator.  But 
dark  streets  never  daunted  her  and  she  sallied 
forth ;  she  emerged  from  under  the  stone  archway 
that  formed  the  mouth  of  the  enormous  bee-hive. 
The  pallid  glare  of  the  electric  light  revealed  her 
tall  figure  and  the  severe  outline  of  her  face. 

463 


The   Mills   of  Man 

She  paused  insensibly  upon  the  pavement — she, 
too,  was  not  drawn  anywhere.  For  a  moment  a 
passion  of  desolation  swept  her  features,  and  her 
lips  parted  in  a  sigh;  then  the  accustomed  resolu 
tion  sealed  expression  close.  She  turned  to  walk 
away. 

"  Card." 

A  man  who  stepped  from  out  the  shadow  spoke 
her  name. 

She  did  not  stop. 

;'  Is — is  that  you,  Chris?    I'm  glad  to  see  you." 

Her  voice  was  that  of  friendship,  cordial,  calm. 

"  Don't,  Card,  don't,"  he  murmured,  following. 
"  I've  come  back,  Card;  I've  come  back  for  good. 
It's  been  so  horrible — don't  freeze  me  up." 

They  crossed  into  another  zone  of  light  and 
Card  surveyed  him  comprehensively. 

"  All  right,  Chris,"  she  concluded,  "  come 
along.  I  won't  say  a  word;  I  guess  we're  quits — 
you've  suffered  as  much  as  I." 

"  Dear  Card,"  he  whispered,  as  he  fell  in  with 
her  steps. 

"  You  bet  I'm  dear,"  echoed  Card,  with  a 
laugh.  "  If  I  were  like  most  women,  I'd  make  you 
dance  around  awhile  on  hot  irons  for  a  month.  But 
I  never  was  mean,"  she  asserted,  thankfully. 

'  You're  the  most  generous  soul  on  earth,"  he 
portested,  in  his  self-abasement,  "  and  I  think  I'm 
the  littlest,  quite.  I  never  shall  forgive  myself, 

464 


The   Mills  of  Man 

dear  Card,  that  I  went  away  at  all,  though  I  be 
lieve  I  always  meant  to  come  back." 

"  Pooh,  Chris,  don't  take  on  so;  we're  such  old 
friends,  why  shouldn't  I  be  nice  to  you?  " 

She  put  a  great  deal  of  astonishment  into  her 
voice. 

The  reporter  slipped  in  a  trice  from  the  felicity 
of  misery  into  its  distress. 

"Friends!  Oh,  Card,  you  don't  think  we're 
that!" 

She  was  flushing  in  the  dark. 

"Can't  we  be  friends?"  she  queried.  Then 
flippantly,  "  It's  evident  you  don't  much  appreciate 
my  forgiveness,  Chris." 

'  No,  we  can't,"  said  Ruggles,  shortly.  He 
fancied  vaguely  he  might  perhaps,  for  once  in  his 
life,  proceed  like  a  man  of  action  and  round  up 
matters  with  a  sharp  turn.  "  No,  Card,  we  can't," 
he  repeated  firmly.  "  I  didn't  come  back  to  be 
just  friends;  that's  not  enough.  I've  been  so  good 
for  nothing  and  so  lonely;  I  am  no  good  without 
you,  Card,  at  all."  The  plaintive  note  in  his  voice 
gave  way  to  one  almost  of  fear.  "  You  won't  turn 
me  off,  Card,  even  if  I  do  deserve  it,  to  endure  my 
misery  and  loneliness?  You  won't;  it  wouldn't 
be  like  you,  Card." 

She  had  purposed  to  surrender  at  discretion  in 
her  own  time ;  but  her  heart  melted  for  his  poign 
ant  suffering — she  herself  knew  so  well  what  it 

465 


The  Mills  of  Man 

was.  She  reached  in  the  shadow  and  impulsively 
her  hand  fluttered  into  his. 

"  No,  no,  Chris,  not  yet!  Tell  me  first — you  do 
forgive  me,  and  you  see  now  I  might  have  been — 
bad — once,  for  a  day — and  yet  be  worthy  of  a 
good  man's  love?  " 

"  Don't — don't  talk  so,  Card;  you  are  the 
noblest  woman  I  ever  knew." 

"What,  Mrs.  Corlis?"  taunted  Card,  half 
glad  to  escape  into  levity. 

"  Oh,  Card,  she  is  you  own  sister  in  spirit." 
The  tone  was  almost  a  reproach. 

"  I  know,"  said  Card,  reverently. 

"  And,  Card,  besides  her,  it  was  your  letters 
brought  me  back.  They  were  so  strong  and  I  felt 
so  little,  so  little  like  a  man." 

"  Then  it  was  good  for  you,"  said  Card  con 
tentedly. 

'  That's  true,  it  was,"  he  meekly  acquiesced. 
"  And  it  was  very  brave  of  you  to  write,"  he 
added,  with  a  burst  of  admiration. 

"  Oh,  that  I  had  to  do,  dear  Chris.  Too  much 
was  at  stake.  But  tell  me,  did  they  make  you  un 
derstand,  do  you  think?  I — I  wrote  them  with 
my  tears  and  blood." 

"  They  made  me  worship  you  for  the  most  cour 
ageous  soul — "  he  vowed. 

"  Now  that,  Chris,  is  not  what  I  want.  What 
I  mean  is,  did  they  make  you  see  how  a  woman 

466 


The   Mills   of  Man 

refuses  to  be  cast  down,  because  of  a  mistake  of 
ignorance  and  youth?  Can  you  now  believe  what 
is  true  of  me  that  I  am  better,  honestly  better,  for 
it  all?" 

He  hesitated. 

"  Can  you?  "  came  the  insistent  reiteration. 

"  I'm  jealous,  Card,  miserably  jealous  still." 
Chris  laid  down  his  arms.  "  But  I  suppose  I  can 
understand,  intellectually  understand — perhaps." 

"  Of  course  you  can,"  assented  Card.  "  I'm 
not  repentant — I  never  was.  The  way  to  mend  a 
matter  is  by  action,  not  by  whining.  We  ought  to 
grow  in  grace  and  mind  and  true  nobility  by  rea 
son  of  our  sins  and  passions,  or  what's  the  use  of 
them?" 

They  turned  a  corner  into  State  street,  where 
the  electrical  illumination,  if  of  another  tint  than 
day's,  seemed  as  strong.  Ruggles  saw  her  now, 
the  high  bearing,  the  clean  limbs,  the  beautiful 
strong  face  aflash  with  meaning,  and  the  aureole 
of  pale,  gold  hair.  Some  classic  recollection  stirred 
in  him — ah,  he  knew — she  was  a  Greek  Victory, 
unconquerable,  glorious,  rare. 

He  bowed  his  head  as  in  a  reverent  acceptance 
of  a  spirit  nobler  than  all  the  Magdalens  that  ever 
wept. 

'  Yes,  Card,  it  is  all  as  you  say.  But  what  I 
know  clearly  is  that  you  are  much  above  me  and 
that  you  lift  me  up." 

467 


The   Mills   of  Man 

She  turned  to  him  with  sudden  weakness. 

"  Oh,  Chris,"  she  said,  "  it  is  so  good  to  have 
you  back  again,  to  hear  your  voice,  to  look  into 
your  dear  eyes.  Chris,  the  world  was  a  very 
lonely  place  while  you  were  away." 

"Where  are  we  bound  for?"  he  asked  pres 
ently. 

"  Straight  out  to  the  McBrides',"  Card  de 
clared.  "  I  must  let  Gretchen  know,  first  thing, 
for  she's  been  worried  half  to  death,  and  besides, 
there's  nothing  will  so  much  please  the  Boss." 

"Strange,  Card,  isn't  it?"  mused  Chris:  "I 
thought,  .once,  he  must  be  some  sort  of  coarse,  vul 
gar  devil." 

"  Oh,  Chris,  that  fat  Irishman's  a  knight  at 
heart,  though  he  is  a  ward  politician  got  up." 

Ruggles  gazed  absent-mindedly  about  the  table, 
and,  after  his  wont,  relapsed  into  thought.  Mc- 
Bride  oozed  geniality,  while  Gretchen  of  the  flaxen 
braids  still  showed  cheeks  stained  by  the  whimper 
ing  with  which  she  had  received  Card's  announce 
ment. 

The  reporter  was  happy  and  for  years  he  had 
been  miserable.  Yet  he  still  must  analyze  and  he 
found  it  strange.  A  student  of  government  and 
political  science,  a  doctrinaire,  one  who  had  been 
ardent  for  reform  and  zealous  for  purity  in  poli 
tics,  he  was  now  associated  in  intimacy  with  an 

468 


The   Mills  of  Man 

Irish  Boss  and  his  wife;  he  was  engaged  to  marry 
a  woman  of  a  new  type,  who  refused  to  manifest 
repentance  or  to  look  back  upon  what  was  done; 
and  the  paradox  of  the  whole  situation  was,  that 
he  now  felt  more  confident  of  the  practical  issue 
of  the  truths  in  which  he  believed  than  he  ever  had 
while  he  stood  well  within  Respectability's  white 
pale. 

America  had  come  very  far,  he  mused.  She 
was  working  out  her  own  development  in  ways 
original.  And  the  student  who  complained  of  her, 
the  idealist  who  was  shocked  by  her,  were  ignorant 
in  reality  and  of  little  faith.  Let  such  work  with  her 
in  the  common  ways,  let  them  humbly  learn  and 
close  their  foolish  mouths! 

The  gentlemanly  purist  was  become  an  ana 
chronism  to-day;  McBride  and  Ransom  were  the 
realities.  Ruggles,  for  one,  did  not  protest. 
Poetry  had  been  written  before  the  critics  ever  had 
laid  down  its  laws ;  economics  and  politics  perform 
their  work  with  no  reference  to  the  views  of  the 
professors  of  the  subjects,  who  investigate  past  ac 
complished  things  and  cackle  sapiently  about  pres 
ent  tendencies  to  classes  of  callow  youths. 

He  heard  the  Boss  telling  Card  about  Mr.  Jar- 
rett's  coercion  of  Corlis,  and  describing  how  that 
affected  the  results.  The  narrative  confirmed,  to 
his  mind,  what  he  had  come  to  believe  was  the 
truth.  The  world  was  full  of  forces  and  action 

469 


The  Mills  of  Man 

was  their  interplay.  Reformers  and  doctrinaires 
expected  government  to  excel  human  nature  and 
business  to  obey  abstractions  that  had  no  force. 
He  smiled  at  them  now. 

Likewise  his  Card  refuted  the  conventional 
moralists.  She  was  the  free,  persistent  spirit  of 
America.  She  refused  to  take  the  punishment  de 
creed  of  old;  she  scoffed  at  the  solemn  monstros 
ities  of  the  sin-oppressed  imagination;  she  was 
Greek,  noble,  dauntless,  laughter  loving. 

In  the  toleration  of  his  mood,  Ruggles  framed 
an  apology  even  for  the  Boss.  McBride  might 
be  corrupt;  he  was;  but  he  was  also  very  human. 

Card  was  saying  to  the  McBrides, 

"  No,  I'm  going  out  of  business.  I  have  cleared 
up  eighty  thousand  dollars  and  that's  about  enough 
for  Chris  and  me." 

"But  what  are  you  goin'  to  do?"  asked  the 
Boss.  '  You've  got  to  do  something,  as  you  ain't 
the  sort  to  lay  'round." 

"  Oh,  we're  going  to  Europe,  first  of  all.  I've 
got  to  see  Paris  and  the  Alps,  and  Chris,  I  guess, 
can  theorize  doing  nothing  over  there  just  as  well 
as  if  he  were  doing  stunts  for  the  old  Pundit  be 
tween  his  thinks  here." 

The  three  laughed  at  the  sally. 

"  Yes,"  inquired  McBride,  "  but  if  you're  goin' 
gallivantin'  round  the  earth  for  fun,  where  does 

470 


The   Mills   of  Man 

Chris  come  in,  I'd  like  to  know,  with  his  reformin' 
itch  and  his  socialism?  " 

"  It's  none  of  my  business  what  he  thinks,  if  he 
only  acts  my  way,"  declared  Card,  with  her  inim 
itable  effrontery.  "  I've  about  worked  my  share,  I 
guess,  and  now  I  want  to  get  reposeful  and  cul 
tured  and  that  sort  of  thing.  I  didn't  make  this 
world  and  so  it's  not  up  to  me,  necessarily,  to 
tinker  up  its  squeaky  machinery.  There  is  some 
thing  besides  feeling  your  responsibilities  in  this 
life."  She  was  encouraged  to  exaggeration. 
"  Chris  there,  I  can  tell  you,  won't  wear  so  long  a 
face  when  he's  got  me  to  cheer  him  up;  if  he  must 
mourn  for  humanity,  I  mean  to  fix  it  anyway  so  he 
can't  mourn  for  himself." 

Me  Bride  exploded  in  a  loud  guffaw  and 
Gretchen  tinkled  her  accompaniment,  while  Chris 
smiled  rather  uncomprehendingly  at  his  Card. 


471 


LI 

OTHER   FINALITIES. 

THE  weeks  that  immediately  followed  the 
election  found  Mr.  Corlis  much  at  home. 
His  clubs  apparently  contained  small  at 
traction  for  him,  while  the  companionship  of  men 
whose  manner  was  continually  a  delicate  acknowl 
edgment  of  his  superiority  in  money  and  power, 
he  seemed  content  altogether  to  eschew.  In  fine, 
the  inclination  to  domesticity  that  he  evinced  was 
unprecedented  so  far  as  his  wife  could  recall.  He 
lingered  in  the  room  in  which  she  chanced  to  be; 
he  invented  little  courtesies  as  if  to  prove  his  devo 
tion  to  her  woman's  mind ;  he  followed  her  when 
he  could  and  helped  to  beguile  many  a  lagging 
hour. 

She  tolerated  rather  than  accepted  these  evi 
dences  of  friendship  or  of  fondness  on  his  part; 
she  permitted  them  because  she  was  too  apathetic 
to  resist,  and  because  she  frequently  found  any 
presence  welcome  that  could  dissipate  the  solitude 
of  her  thoughts.  Indeed,  in  time,  she  grew  a  lit 
tle  thankful  for  his  constancy,  and  mildly  acqui 
esced  in  his  new  appreciation. 

Only  once  were  her  emotions  stirred  from  dull 
ness,  and  that  was  by  the  news  of  Governor  Ran- 

472 


The   Mills   of  Man 

som's  sudden  death.  In  despite  of  her  own  defeat, 
she  had  thrilled  exultantly  at  the  announcement  of 
his  victory  in  the  election.  And  now  the  manner 
of  his  death  thrilled  her  again.  The  Governor 
had  fallen  dead  in  the  State  House  in  Springfield 
one  December  afternoon.  One  moment  he  had 
been  talking  animatedly,  the  next  he  was  lying  life 
less  on  the  floor. 

She  remembered  that  in  the  old  days  he  had  fre 
quently  expressed  his  wish  to  die  suddenly,  "  in 
his  boots."  And  she  felt  that  his  death  now  was 
not  to  be  regretted.  He  had  reached  the  height 
of  his  career;  for  him  there  would  be  no  slow,  in 
evitable  decline  from  the  summit  he  had  so  toil 
somely  attained.  He  had  lived  life  out,  gotten  its 
good,  made  himself  the  strong  man  he  was  de 
signed  to  be.  What  else  remained? 

She  read  the  newspaper  descriptions  of  his  fu 
neral  and  the  grudging  acknowledgments  of  edi 
tors  and  respectabilities.  She  felt  that  the  people's 
sorrow  compensated  for  their  indifference.  A  com 
mon  grief  reigned  in  the  country  between  the  Wa- 
bash,  the  Ohio  and  the  Mississippi;  sixty  thou 
sand  people  attended  the  funeral  at  the  capital  of 
the  state;  hard-handed  men  and  women  wept  as 
they  looked  for  the  last  time  upon  the  Roman  face 
of  him  who  had  been  their  idol,  their  champion, 
their  hero. 

From  such  tragical  contemplation,  Mrs.  Corlis 

473 


The  Mills  of  Man 

turned  with  a  new  pity  to  the  deft  ministrations  of 
her  husband.  She  came  to  realize  how  forlorn 
the  vain  man  was,  stripped  of  office  and  of  power, 
deprived  of  the  daily  homage  of  his  fellow-men, 
which  had  made  life  pleasurable  to  him.  She  saw 
how  plausibly  in  the  future  he  might  grow  to  im 
pute  responsibility  for  his  downfall  to  her  interven 
tion,  and  how  bitter  his  memory  of  her  might  be 
come.  Once  or  twice  she  detected  in  his  eyes  that 
look  of  subservience  which  first  had  affected  her, 
when  he  was  a  departmental  clerk  in  Washington 
and  she  the  toasted  heiress.  That  look  of  his  poor 
youth  made  her  ashamed. 


In  the  old  house  down  at  Primrose  Hill,  in  the 
presence  of  the  prairies  and  their  silences,  she  re 
sumed  with  her  father  the  simple  life  which  they 
had  lived  years  ago,  and  was  released  forever  from 
the  fever  of  the  world  which  had  once  nearly  con 
sumed  her. 

The  Senator  she  found  despondent  in  defeat 
and  inclined  at  moments  to  cynicism  and  misan 
thropy.  The  duty  of  cheering  him  and  lightening 
his  humor  devolved  upon  her.  In  her  effort  to 
comfort  him  she  had  recourse  to  the  precepts  of 
the  high  Puritan  philosophy  in  whose  justice  her 
youth  had  been  instructed  and  from  whose  sever 
ity  her  womanhood  had  shrunk.  In  evoking  them 

474 


The   Mills   of  Man 

to  sustain  the  spirit  of  another,  she  found  solace 
for  herself. 

The  two  often  sat  together  within  the  glass  pro 
tected  porch,  passing  silent  hours  content  in  one 
another's  company.  They  saw  the  naked  prairies 
become  mantled  in  white  snow  and  the  suns  go 
down  early  in  bleak  winter  splendors.  Each  knew 
that  life  for  them  had  been  completed  and  that 
they  were  no  longer  of  interest  to  the  world.  Each 
day  the  Senator,  who  felt  that  he  was  the  last  of 
the  old  Americans,  was  further  alienated  from 
what  for  years  had  closed  him  round,  and  each 
day  Mrs.  Corlis  withdrew  further  into  her  inheri 
tance. 

Indeed,  in  those  last  days,  in  the  house  of  her 
fathers,  breathing  the  country  air  and  conscious 
only  of  the  great  simplicities,  Mrs.  Corlis  relapsed 
into  Puritanism;  then  the  moral  genius  of  her 
race  emerged  and  captured  her  imagination  and 
her  mind.  She  felt  she  had  attained  to  a  right 
perception  of  the  relativity  of  things.  Her  own 
experience  ot  life  had  demonstrated  to  her  that  the 
meaning  of  existence  is  moral  and  that  human  life 
can  only  so  be  justified. 

Nevertheless,  in  the  conviction  of  her  recovered 
Puritanism  Mrs.  Corlis  did  not  assume  the  fault 
of  Puritanism,  its  provincial  judgment  and  its  in 
clination  to  mistake  respectability  for  righteous 
ness.  She  had  lived  too  much;  her  mind's  experi- 

475 


The   Mills  of  Man 

ence  was  too  catholic.  As  with  last  invincible  in 
sight  she  pierced  to  the  soul  of  things,  some  of  her 
conclusions  were  these : 

She  was  no  longer  impressed  by  unassailable 
virtue  nor  by  immaculate  states  maintained.  What 
she  esteemed  was  the  persistence  after  good,  a  per 
sistence  found  as  often  in  one  station  as  in  another, 
in  the  slums  as  frequently  as  on  the  avenue,  dis 
played  as  often  by  persons  discredited  as  by  those 
approved  in  the  world's  regard,  to  be  seen  some 
times  in  citizens  prone  to  evil,  and  sometimes  to 
be  missed  in  gentlemen  confirmed  in  a  conceit  of 
virtue. 

For  herself  Mrs.  Corlis  was  content.  She  had 
learned  life's  secret,  and  to  learn  that  is  the  end 
and  all  of  life.  Besides,  did  she  not  look  forward 
to  a  long  tranquillity? 


476 


A     000927640     3 


